Three Pieces Of Amber
by skyflower51
Summary: Mercer Frey returns from Snow Veil Sanctum - alone. The Dragonborn's lover is left to mourn her loss. But when she returns to Riften, alive, there's a question he needs to ask her. One he's been planning to ask for a long time.
1. Chapter 1

**I've written quite a lot about my Dragonborn, but I realised recently that I've been neglecting her husband. Which is a shame, because without him, she probably wouldn't have survived to defeat Alduin. _Three Pieces Of Amber _is the story of how they met, and how they turned from unlikely travelling companions to soulmates.**

**About half of this story is an extended flashback, but I promise it will eventually return to the original plot. This was originally going to be a oneshot, but then I kind of lost control of it and became really long, so I'm splitting it up. I hope you enjoy. :)**

* * *

Three pieces of amber. Small, round, polished to perfection. Three golden-orange stones, shining in the sunlight, set into a silver band. Three pieces of amber, glinting almost mockingly at the man who cradled the ring that held them in his hand.

Derkeethus gazed out over the waters of the lake, listening to the sound of the wind whispering through the branches of the golden-leafed tree that stood beside him. The silver ring felt heavy in his palm. But his heart felt a thousand times heavier within his chest.

Silently, the Argonian turned the ring over in his hand, watching the way the light flashed off the small orange stones. Something within him, some deep-seated, burning rage fuelled by grief and pain wanted to hurl the ring away from him, as far away as he could get it. He could see it in his mind; the small silver band spinning through the air, arcing away from him, shimmering in the sunlight as it fell. In his head, he heard the faint splash as it hit the water of the lake and disappeared underneath, never to be seen again. It would be the work of a moment.

But he did not throw it. He held it tight.

He remembered every second he had spent making it. He remembered visiting the Bee and Barb to ask Talen-Jei for advice, and he remembered speaking to Madesi at the jewellery stall, and purchasing those three pieces of amber from him. He remembered the hours he had spent with Balimund, the blacksmith, learning to shape the metal. And he remembered the fierce, bright feeling of joy that had welled up within him when he had finally held his completed masterpiece up to the light.

He had known even then how much easier it would have been for him to simply visit the temple of Mara and buy an amulet. But that was the Nord way of doing things. And to Derkeethus, it had always seemed somewhat shallow. Flighty, almost. All the Nords did was hand over a little money, wear the amulet for a while and hope the person they were courting noticed. The Argonian way of doing things meant so much more. Derkeethus was proud of every burn on his hands, every drop of sweat, every hour of labour. This was his way of showing his devotion. He had poured his love, his heart, his very soul, into the ring he now clutched in his hands.

And all for nothing. He kept reliving the moment. He had never officially joined the Thieves Guild, and he had never actually completed any jobs apart from a few small errands for Vex and Delvin in Riften, but he was welcome in the Cistern and the Ragged Flagon. He had been in the Flagon, enjoying a mug of Argonian ale, savouring its sharp taste, when Brynjolf had entered. Derkeethus had thought nothing of it at first. There had been so much else on his mind. But then the Guild's second in command had walked straight over to him and stood beside him.

'Is there something wrong?' Derkeethus had glanced up at Brynjolf, and the Nord's grim expression answered his question before he even spoke.

'There's bad news, lad,' Brynjolf had replied quietly. 'Mercer's just come back.'

There was something about the way he said the words, with such uncharacteristic seriousness in his voice and deep, bitter grief in his eyes, that Derkeethus's blood instantly felt as if it had turned to ice. His heart suddenly racing, the Argonian had asked the question in a shaking voice.

'Where is J'shana?'

And Brynjolf had swallowed, looked at the floor, closed his eyes briefly, and looked back at Derkeethus again.

'I'm sorry, Keeth. She's dead.'

Derkeethus dimly remembered staring at the Nord, waiting for him to laugh and say something about how he'd thought Argonians were supposed to be smart. But he didn't laugh, and he didn't say it. A moment passed, a moment that paused and waited and dragged on for a million years. And very slowly, the meaning of the words sank in.

J'shana was dead.

J'shana.

His J'shana.

Dead.

Brynjolf had started speaking again. At first the words were nonsensical, washing over Derkeethus like water over a stone in a river. But gradually, they had started to make sense, and the story had taken shape. How Mercer and J'shana had arrived at Snow Veil Sanctum, how J'shana had volunteered to take the lead, since she saw better in the dark, how they had entered the final chamber and an arrow had come out of nowhere, taking J'shana through the throat, how she had died instantly, and if it was any consolation, she wouldn't have felt any pain…

It was no consolation. None at all.

Derkeethus had stood there, staring, hearing the words that Brynjolf was saying, but not really taking them in. The rest of the world seemed to have melted away. Sounds were blending together and fading into a blur of meaningless noise. Time slowed. The ground fell away, crumbling beneath Derkeethus's feet, leaving him to fall through empty space.

And then his hand had closed around the silver ring in his pocket, and reality had come crashing back.

'No.' The word was barely even audible. 'She can't be dead.'

Brynjolf hadn't met his eyes this time. 'I'm sorry. I truly am. There was nothing anyone could have done.'

'No!' Derkeethus remembered feeling a sudden, vicious rage rising up within him. Why was Brynjolf lying to him? J'shana wasn't dead. She couldn't be! 'She promised she'd come back!'

The Nord thief had said nothing, but his silence had been his answer.

For a few seconds more, Derkeethus had stood there. Then he had turned and ran. Out of the Flagon, through the Cistern, out of the trapdoor exit and into the city. Through the streets, until he reached Honeyside. He had fumbled for what had seemed like an eternity with the key before the door finally swung open. He recalled how he had burst into the house, shouting J'shana's name, waiting for the reply. She would be there. Brynjolf had been mistaken, that was all. Any moment now, the Khajiit would appear in the doorway, her whiskers twitching as they always did when she was confused, and that soft, cautious voice would ask him what was wrong.

But no one came.

And so he had wrenched open the back door and run past the lake, heading for the stables. He knew that Frost would be there in his stall. J'shana must have returned already, she just hadn't got round to visiting the Guild yet, or going to Honeyside.

But the palomino stallion's stable was empty, heartlessly empty.

That was when it had hit him, as hard and as painful as a blow from a dragon's tail. She wasn't coming back. She was never coming back. She had gone to that ancient tomb, and she had stayed there, one more body added to the hundreds down there in the darkness and the dust.

He had lost her forever.

His senses numb, his heart tearing itself apart within his chest, he had stumbled back to the side of the lake. And there, beside the shimmering drift of water, he had sunk to his knees and wept.

A day had passed since then. And every moment of it had been nothing short of torture. When Derkeethus had woken up in the morning, it had seemed so wrong, not to have her lying next to him, her tail twined with his and the sound of her quiet purrs filling the air. The house had been so empty without her, and so silent without the sound of her voice. The sunlight seemed less warm, the air less fresh, and even the brightly-coloured birds that flew past seemed drab and dull.

He had not gone back to the Guild yet. What was there for him with them, without J'shana? He got on well with some of them, that was true. Brynjolf was good conversation, Rune was friendly, Sapphire had mellowed towards him quite a bit, and it was impossible for him not to talk to Etienne a lot, seeing as the Breton was the only other member of the Guild who knew the truth about J'shana. But he wasn't a thief, not at heart. He was a fisherman and a miner. He didn't belong in the Thieves Guild if J'shana wasn't there with him.

Now, as he stood by the lakeshore, turning the ring over in his palm, he let out a long sigh, his head hanging forwards. 'I never deserved her,' he murmured.

He felt so lost. J'shana had always been the leader. He had walked alongside her, but she had chosen the way. That was how it had always been, right from when they had first met.

He smiled as the memory resurfaced. That had been the day his life had begun.

Only a year and a half ago, or maybe a little more, he had been nobody. He'd spent his days in the sleepy, secluded village of Darkwater Crossing. It was a small place, with so few inhabitants that Derkeethus could count them on his fingers. They had all known each other well, and they had worked side by side in the mines. When the day was done, or if it hadn't been his shift, Derkeethus would go down to the river, catching fish, or else just swimming. It had been peaceful, and it was safe. But all the same, he had always felt something stirring within him. An urge to leave behind his simple life behind and find some new, more exciting existence – one that actually meant something.

More than anything, he longed to be an adventurer, to strike out alone and seek quests and battles, just like the heroes of the old stories his mother had told him when she was young. When he heard the stories of the Dragonborn, a fearless warrior who was, everyone said, to rid the land of the dragons for good, his reveries had intensified. But it was never something he had actually considered doing, not seriously. His place was in the Crossing, and he intended to stay there. It was his home.

But then he had heard the Greybeards' call to the Dragonborn, and for weeks he hadn't been able to banish the sound from his head. The traders and couriers who occasionally passed through the village would bring the stories with them – stories of how the Dragonborn had defeated a dragon in Whiterun, and another at Kynesgrove.

For some reason, Derkeethus had slowly but surely found himself growing restless, edgy and agitated. His friends had noticed that something was wrong. Despite their increased efforts to get him to tell them his troubles, he had waved them away, saying he was just tired after working all day in the heat of the Heartfire sun. Eventually, though, he had confided in Hrefna, for though she was still a child, she had a good and smart head on her shoulders. He had told her how he still harboured dreams of finding adventure for himself, though he knew he could never live such a life. She had shrugged and told him it seemed like he needed to get some time alone. 'Just go and camp out by yourself for a bit,' she had said. 'That's what I'd do.'

So that was what he had done. Looking for good fishing and mining spots wasn't much of an adventure, but still, it was an excuse to leave the Crossing for a while, and he could defend himself if he needed to, being capable with a bow and all right with a pickaxe- even if they did make rather unwieldy weapons. So he had packed a haversack of food and equipment and set off, following the river south. Hrefna had been right. The freedom of fending for himself out in the wild… it was wonderful. More than that, it had made him feel alive in a way he'd never experienced before.

On the second day, it had begun to rain reverentially, one of the heavy storms that were common at that time of year. He had taken shelter at the foot of a cliff, and that was when he had noticed the door leading directly into the cliff face.

And that was when he had been a fool, a complete and utter fool, and opened the door and walked in.

He wasn't sure why he had done it. Partly just trying to get out of the rain, partly the sense of adventure, he supposed. He had found a chest not far in- a chest which, to his delight, contained several jewels and some coins. Intrigued and excited, wondering what more was to be found, he had made his way further inside.

The tunnel had eventually opened out into a wide chamber with a waterfall at the far end. Seeing fish stirring in the murky blue-green water, Derkeethus had shrugged off his pack and knelt down by the water to see if he could catch any. And that was when he had heard the hiss.

With a startled hiss of his own, he had jumped to his feet and drawn his curved hunting bow. A strange creature - hunched and pale-skinned, with bloodshot eyes - had emerged from a hut at the water's edge and started to run towards him, uttering a long, drawn out, high-pitched screech. The cry had brought more of the monsters running, weapons ready and greedy delight all over their pale faces. He had fought furiously, but eventually numbers had overwhelmed him, despite his desperate struggles to break free. And then, with gleeful hisses and growls, the monsters had dragged their helpless prisoner through the freezing water of the cave and into a darkened chamber. One of them had activated a lever hidden on one side of the room. A stairway had opened up nearby. The creatures dragging him had pulled him over to it and kicked him down the steps, making screeches that sounded horribly like laughter as he cried out in pain as he landed on the hard, cold stone of the floor. A couple had dropped down after him, and thrown him into a small, circular chamber filled with thigh-deep water. Then the door had been shut, key had turned in the lock, the way out had been sealed, and Derkeethus had been left utterly alone in the darkness.

Days had passed; by counting the number of sleeps, Derkeethus guessed it had been nearly a week, though time had no meaning when you could not see the moon and stars and sun and sky. What had worried him the most was that the Falmer – for what else could these foul creatures be? - appeared to be trying to keep him alive. Once a day- at least, he thought it was once a day- they had thrown food down to him. If you could count the remains of a fish that had nearly been picked clean of meet and an assortment of moss and tubers and other cave plants that he had no names for food. He was perpetually hungry. It was enough to keep him alive, but only just. And that was what worried him. Why did they want him alive? Why didn't they just get it over with and kill him? That would be better and easier than living this wretched life, down in the damp and dark like one of the blind, squirming things that scuttled around the cave walls and in the water that lapped constantly around his feet.

On the day that his life changed forever, Derkeethus made a decision. If by some miracle he survived, he would never again leave his home. No, he had learned his lesson. He would go back to Darkwater Crossing and be glad that at least he had his home and his friends there. He would long for adventure for all his life, he knew, but he would never again answer the call of the wilderness, knowing that only death awaited him out there. The Crossing was peaceful, and it was safe.

But in his heart he had known that he would never go back. He would die there in the darkness, alone and forsaken, either through starvation, or at the cruel whim of his captors.

In his mind's eyes, he saw it again. He saw himself, sitting hunched in the driest part of his prison that he could find. He saw a tear well up in the corner of his eye and trickled down his cheek. Angrily, he wiped it away. Crying wouldn't save him. But he couldn't stop the tears from coming. His friends would never know what had happened to him. Hrefna would blame herself, knowing that it had been her idea. His fellow miners would have to work even harder, being one man down. But after that, he would be forgotten. Just one more name lost to the passage of time. Not even a grave to mark his final resting place.

There was a sudden clatter up above, followed by a loud hiss and the clash of metal on metal. Derkeethus sighed. It sounded like the Falmer were arguing amongst themselves again. They did it several times every day. A clack of claws on stone surprised him. Were the Chaurus fighting too? If their masters had summoned them to fight, it was rather more than the usual petty squabbles. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wet wall of the cave, listening to the screeches and caterwauling up above. There was a twang, followed by a thump and a shriek of rage from one of the Falmer. Had one of them just killed another? Maybe it was a fight over leadership. Derkeethus didn't care. He didn't really care about anything anymore.

Quietly, he got to his feet, then knelt down, bowing his head. 'Oh, mighty Hist, Trees of Argonia, who walk beside me and decide my destiny, hear me now. I pray that I will return to my friends in Darkwater Crossing. I pray that I will see them again and sit by the fire again after a hard day of work, that I will feel the wind against my skin and hear the thunder of the waterfalls. I pray that I shall see the sun and sky again. I pray that you will lead me through this nightmare, to return to my home. May you remain beside me and guide my footsteps, in this life and the next.'

If the Hist were listening, they did not answer.

'Please,' Derkeethus whispered, almost too softly to hear his own voice. 'Please, show me you're listening. Please send me something, someone, anything, anyone. Please help me. Please…'

There was a crack up above him, as if something wooden had just snapped in two. A startled, catlike yowl sounded from above his head. Derkeethus's head jerked up, and he was just in time to see something large and greyish fall from the staircase beyond his prison, make an agile twist in mid-air, and land perfectly and lightly on the floor of the cave.

Derkeethus froze. Out of the darkness ahead of him, beyond the door of his cell, a pair of amber eyes stared at him through the gloom. They were the colour of fire, and the pupils were slits as black as ebony. They locked onto his gaze, and Derkeethus found it impossible to look away.

A moment passed, a moment of complete silence. Then the owner of those flame-coloured eyes stepped forward into the light.

She was a Khajiit, her fur the pale grey of ash, patterned with night-black stripes. A quiver was strapped across her back, and the arrows that filled it seemed to be of a hundred different varieties, as if she had scavenged any and every arrow she could find. There was a dwarven style dagger sheathed at her belt, and slung over her shoulder was a bow of the sort he had only ever seen in illustrated books. It was the kind of bow usually pictured in the hands of Draugr, but even in the darkness Derkeethus could see that it had been decorated in a very different fashion. Swirling patterns had been carved into the wood and filled in with some sort of ochre die. Her armour was equally patchwork - simple brown leather, but in places what appeared to be pieces of metal had been tied in place for extra protection. Derkeethus blinked in surprise and looked again. It wasn't metal. They were the scales of dragons. He had never seen one before, but he knew what they were. What other sort of scale could be so large? Did that mean that this Khajiit had fought dragons? And _won?_

'Who are you?' he heard himself breathe.

She stared at him for a moment, her mouth half open. Then, very softly, she whispered, 'J'shana.'

She took a tentative step towards him, and Derkeethus moved forwards as well, until he was standing with the end of his nose poking through the bars of his cell. 'I'm Derkeethus,' he said.

'What are you doing here?' Her Elsweyr accent wasn't as strong as that of other Khajiit Derkeethus had met – not that he'd met many – but it was still startlingly foreign. It caught him off guard for a moment, and he struggled to come up with a response.

'I'm… I'm from Darkwater Crossing. North of here.' Derkeethus wasn't sure why he was suddenly feeling so self-conscious. 'I followed the river looking for fishing spots. These creatures caught me. I should've known better than to swim all the way to the falls.' He grasped the bars. 'Can you get me out of here?'

Without a word, J'shana reached into one of several small leather pouches attached to her belt and produced what looked like a lockpick. Derkeethus moved back slightly as the Khajiit slipped the thin piece of metal into the lock that held him prisoner, a look of intense concentration on her face. 'Hold on,' was all she said.

'Please hurry.' Derkeethus cast a nervous look at the stairway that led to the rest of the cavern. 'If the Falmer find you here – '

'It's all right.' J'shana didn't look up from the lock as she spoke. 'This one took care of them.'

_Took care of them? _Derkeethus stared at her in shock. 'You killed them? All of them?'

'I think so.'

Now Derkeethus knew exactly why he was feeling self-conscious. This Khajiit had managed to fight her way through the cave, and had reached him uninjured. . Here she was, having beaten the Falmer with just as much ease as they had beaten Derkeethus, effortlessly picking the lock that had stopped him from escaping for so long. She must think him so weak and pathetic, allowing himself to be caught. He knew that she would never have let it happen to her.

There was a quiet click, and J'shana withdrew the lockpick with a small purr of satisfaction. His heart racing, Derkeethus gave the door to his cell a small push. With a low creak, it swung forwards.

Sometimes it's the small things in life that are most wonderful. To Derkeethus, that soft creak was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

J'shana pulled the door fully open, and smiled at him. It was a warm, slightly shy smile, one that glimmered in her eyes as well as playing around her mouth. 'We should go. Quickly.'

The Khajiit led the way back through the tunnels and caves at a fast but not difficult pace, frequently glancing back to make sure that Derkeethus was following. At last, they reached the entrance, and J'shana tugged the door open. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the sunlight had warmed Derkeethus's scales, and the sound of birdsong echoed in his ears.

It was daytime, near noon, it seemed, judging by the position of the sun. A few clouds were drifting high above them, looking like pieces of sheep's wool. In front of him, the river raced past, a few fish glistening silver in the deepest parts of the water. The trees on the bank stood swaying slightly, their branches rustling.

It was a sight that at any other time he would he considered normal, but now was to him the most beautiful sight on Nirn. He stared and stared, wanting to burn every last detail into his memory. The way the light danced on the surface of the river. The snowy whiteness of the clouds. The way the breeze stirred J'shana's silver fur.

Derkeethus let long gasp of pure joy and relief and sank to his knees, his eyes suddenly wet. 'Thank you,' he whispered, to the Hist, and to the Divines, and to J'shana.

After perhaps a minute, he looked up to see J'shana smiling at him. She held out her hand, and Derkeethus took it. Her fur was soft as the feathers of a young chick.

The Khajiit pulled him to his feet, her eyes shining.

'So,' she said, her smile wide and bright. 'Which way is it to Darkwater Crossing?'

* * *

**A bit of explanation: At the time she met Derkeethus, J'shana had only been in Skyrim about a month, hence her raggedy gear. She lived homeless in Cyrodiil for a while before coming to Skyrim, so she was beginning to refer to herself in the first person, though she forgot sometimes. **

**Chapter Two should be coming soon, and will explain how Keeth joined J'shana on her travels, and learned that she's Dragonborn. Hopefully all unanswered questions will be sorted out in the rest of the story. Thanks for reading! :D**


	2. Chapter 2

**Here is chapter two! :D**

**Yes, I know this entire chapter is one long flashback. We will be getting back to the part set during the Thieves Guild quest, I promise. I just didn't want to miss out anything from this scene, because it's all so important to Sha and Keeth's story.**

* * *

The journey back to Darkwater Crossing took several hours. They could have made it in better time, but they both preferred to travel at a leisurely pace. Derkeethus was still weak from a week of half-starvation, and he didn't want to exert himself. J'shana seemed to sense it, because she hung back slightly, always walking at his pace, though he had a feeling she could have gone much faster.

As they went, so Derkeethus learned a little more about her. Every so often, she would stop as if she had walked into a wall and drop down to her knees beside some sort of plant, carefully examining the flowers and leaves. Most of the time she would shake her head, get up and continue walking as if nothing had happened, but occasionally she would cut a little off with her dagger and slip it into one of the pouches at her waist. Perhaps she was an alchemist; Derkeethus knew that stealth fighters often used potions and poisons made from plants to give them the edge they needed in combat.

J'shana didn't talk about herself much, even when Derkeethus asked. All she would reveal was that she'd been born in Elsweyr but had left when she was seventeen 'against this one's will.' For two years she had lived in Cyrodiil before coming to Skyrim about a month previously. That made her only nineteen, a few years younger than Derkeethus. It surprised him – her face and voice were certainly youthful, but her manner was not.

Derkeethus, for his part, had told her about his life in Darkwater Crossing, and explained how he'd come to be imprisoned. J'shana had smiled, that small but bright smile, when he'd admitted to secretly harbouring dreams of adventure, and told him why she'd entered the cave in the first place. 'This one is – I mean, I am – on my way to Riften. I never was much good at reading maps, though.'

'So you're an adventurer?'

The Khajiit had hesitated, her whiskers twitching slightly. 'I suppose I am.'

Derkeethus had said nothing, but a thousand different emotions had welled up inside him – admiration, wistfulness, and above all, awe.

Evening had been fast approaching when he had finally caught sight of his beloved home, somehow looking more beautiful and welcoming than it had when he had left, lying nestled at the waterside. Derkeethus found himself walking faster subconsciously.

As he grew closer, he saw one of the figures up ahead turn in his direction. There was a pause; then a squeal of delight split the air. 'Keeth! You're back!'

Derkeethus let out a startled yelp that quickly became a delighted laugh as Hrefna sprinted over to him, cannoned into him and full speed, and threw her arms around him. He hugged her tightly, his mouth hurting from smiling. 'I'm back,' he murmured.

Hrefna released him, but only so that she could look at him while she bombarded him with questions. 'You've been away ages, you said you'd only be a few days! What happened? Where have you been? Did you find anything interesting? What happened to all your things? And who's this?'

The girl's shout had attracted the attention of many of the other residents of the village. Derkeethus felt as if he had never been happier as he watched their faces light up as they saw him. He saw Tormir running over from where she had been hanging dead salmon onto a pole, the fish quickly forgotten, Sondas, Verner and Annekke emerging from the mine at a run, even the handful of guards stationed in the Crossing approaching with welcoming calls.

Derkeethus waited until everyone had gathered before answering Hrefna's questions. 'I was captured by creautrs… Falmer, I believe. I didn't exactly find anything interesting, no, and they took my things. And this is J'shana. She set me free. She saved my life.'

That night, the entire village and J'shana sat around the fire together, feasting on the fish that Tormir and Hrefna had caught earlier. Derkeethus had told his friends the full story what had happened to him. Every time he was told how much he had been missed, or how much everyone had hoped to see him return, and how glad they were to have him back, his heart leaped a little more. He had never felt so appreciated, so wanted, so loved.

As they sat there talking, Sondas turned to J'shana. 'So, what's your story?' he asked. Derkeethus wasn't surprised when the Khajiit had ducked her head and replied that it was long and complicated and not something to be shared on such a happy occasion.

The Khajiit stayed with them overnight, sleeping one of the tents that the handful of guards stationed in the Crossing slept in. Annekke and Verner offered to let her stay in their house, but J'shana politely refused, saying that she was quite used to sleeping outside. Derkeethus also opted to sleep in the open air – he usually slept inside the mine, but he didn't want to spend another night underground until he'd put his experience in the cavern behind him.

He stayed awake long after everyone else was asleep, wondering. Who was she, this quiet, serious Khajiit girl who had appeared out of nowhere and saved his life? What was the story behind those dragon scales on her armour, the tiny scar that cut through one eyebrow, and the nick in her ear? Where had she come from? Where was she going? For some reason, he wanted to know about her. He wished he had the courage to ask, but he knew that she wouldn't tell him.

Sleep took a long time to claim him, but finally it did. His dreams were vivid, but he could not remember them once he woke. Mostly because something happened to wake him that put everything else out of his mind.

It seemed to him that he had been asleep for only minutes when he was awakened without warning by a sound like nothing he had ever heard before. It was a roar, a roar that made the air tremble and the ground shake. A roar that echoed in his ears long after the sound had faded away. A roar that filled his nightmares for days afterwards.

He jolted awake in time to see Eiran, one of the Crossing's guards, snatched up in a set of talons the size of knives, thrown up into the air, and left to fall to his death, screaming as he fell. Derkeethus leaped to his feet and grabbed the nearest weapon to hand –a pickaxe. But only seconds later he realised just how useless it would be, because Eiran's killer was a creature that did not belong on Nirn. It belonged in children's stories, in ancient tales, in wild rumours.

But here it was. And even though it had just killed a man in front of his eyes, Derkeethus felt a thrill run through him. All those stories, all those legends… they'd been true.

As he stood there, frozen to the spot by awe and terror, he saw the dragon turn in the air, its snakelike neck twisting around until the creature was facing him. He staggered as a burst of wind from the dragon's wings hit him as it began to hover. He saw it open its mouth, and its eyes narrow with what could only be described as glee - cruel glee.

And even as Derkeethus realised that he was going to die, a voice cut through the air. Sharp, strong, and furious. Two words in a language the Argonian had never heard before.  
_'Dovah! Helt!'_

The dragon's head snapped around, as did Derkeethus's. J'shana was standing there, her bow drawn and readied, her tail lashing, her amber eyes burning. Derkeethus wanted to run to her, to pull her out of the way, to stop that monster from going anywhere near her, but something held him back.

The dragon stared in what looked like disbelief. _'Dovahkiin?'_

'Leave these _joorre_ in _drem_!' J'shana lifted her bow and aimed it at the dragon's chest.

The dragon bared its teeth, a savage snarl issuing from its mouth. _'Joor mey. Hi los sahlo. Hi fen dir. Pah joor fen dir!'_

'Why fight?' J'shana's tail lashed furiously. 'Do you not think these people will not _krif_ to defend their home and _kiirre?_ Go and seek some easier prey – prey that is not _joorre!'_

The dragon made a sound that was unmistakably laughter – low, rasping laughter. _'Dreh hi ni fraan ziidol wah ald tuum hi, Dovahkiin?'_ It thumped its tail on the ground and added, this time in the common tongue, 'That will to dominate is all we are.'

'You can be more,' J'shana pleaded.

_'Aalkos._ But I do not want to be.'

Without warning, a torrent of flame burst from its maw. Derkeethus let out a cry and leaped forwards, but there was no need; J'shana had leaped aside at the last moment. The dragon swooped low over the pair of them, its barbed tail narrowly missing Derkeethus's head, before shooting upwards into the sky.

'Is it leaving?' Derkeethus gasped.

'No, it's preparing itself to attack again,' J'shana said grimly. 'All those who cannot fight must find shelter.'

Glancing over his shoulder, Derkeethus saw that Tormir was already shepherding Hrefna into the mine. Annekke, Verner, Sondas and the remaining guards were all standing with their weapons drawn, but they all had identical expressions of fear. Only J'shana seemed to be, if not calm, at least not panicking.

With a single bound, the Khajiit leaped onto the nearest rock and raised her voice. 'Dragons are most vulnerable on the ground. Try to cripple its wings in any way you can. Its weakest points are its eyes, mouth and throat. And try to stay near something you can hide behind.'

Derkeethus saw the guards glance at each other, but to his surprise no one questioned her. It seemed that everyone shared his opinion: if she knew how to fight dragons, she was in charge.

The dragon was circling them now, completely ignoring the volley of arrows the guards launched at it. Derkeethus dropped the pickaxe, realising that it was useless unless the dragon came in range. He looked around desperately for a long-range weapon, and his eyes fell on Eiran's crumpled body. His bow lay some distance away – he must have dropped it when the dragon seized him. Derkeethus raced over, snatched it up, and carefully lifted Eiran's quiver from his back, muttering an apology to the young man as he did so.

As the dragon dropped down and landed on the roof of Anekke and Verner's house, scattering thatch in every direction, Derkeethus loaded Eiran's bow and took careful aim. He breathed in deeply and let the arrow fly. It arched through the air, striking the dragon at the base of its neck. The beast let out a howl of pain.

J'shana gave Derkeethus a small smile. 'Good shot.'

_It didn't do much good, though,_ the Argonian thought, as the dragon took off again, sending a burst of flame towards the ground that incinerated Annekke's vegetable patch within a heartbeat.

'This is useless!' The shout came from Verner, who was gripping his pickaxe so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. 'It's too strong for us. We need to get out of here, or else hide in the mine.'

'Dragons fly faster than mortals can run,' J'shana called back. 'If we hide, it will stay outside, waiting for us to starve. Even if it leaves, it will go on to another settlement. Do you want to condemn others to death?'

Verner looked taken aback, but there was no time for argument; the dragon was dropping down to earth. The ground trembled as it landed, and a shower of dust and dirt sprayed in every direction. Derkeethus recalled J'shana's words - _dragons are most vulnerable on the ground_ – and loosed arrow after arrow at it at the same time that J'shana and the guards did the same. Most bounced off the thick brown scales, but a few struck home, making the monster snarl with pain.

It was Annekke who struck the first proper blow. As the dragon snapped at Selldi, a battle-hardened Nord woman who was the self-appointed but undisputed leader of the Crossing guards, Verner's wife was slowly creeping up on it from behind. Derkeethus's breath caught in his throat as he saw her lift her pickaxe above her head and, with a furious cry, bring it down with all her strength on the dragon's right wing joint.

The dragon's screech of agony somehow managed to make Derkeethus wince and grin in triumph at the same time. _'Pahlok joorre! Hi fen dir fah daar!'_

It spread its wings and made a leap upwards as if to take flight, but it only managed to rise a short distance before plummeting back to the ground in an ungainly, ungraceful tangle of wings and clawed feet. Derkeethus felt a burst of hope. Annekke's blow had injured the dragon so badly that it could no longer fly. Now their victory was almost certain - at least, he hoped it was.

The dragon didn't allow itself to remain vulnerable for long. It lashed out with its tail in Annekke's direction, a vicious swipe that would have snapped the woman's spine had Verner not thrown himself forwards and knocked her out of the way just in time. Selldi was not so lucky – as she rushed towards the beast with her sword raised, it lunged with the speed of a striking snake, closing its jaws around Selldi's waist and lifting her off the ground. The defenders of the Crossing watched in horror as the dragon shook the Nord woman back and forth before hurling her to one side. Derkeethus didn't know if the dragon's teeth had already killed her, but if they hadn't, her collision with the rocky wall of the mine definitely did.

_That serves as a reminder to me never to engage in any Nord recklessness,_ Derkeethus thought.

'A downed dragon is a vulnerable dragon, but also a dangerous one.' J'shana selected another arrow from her quiver. 'He will try not to let anyone else get that close to him.'

'So how do we kill it?' Derkeethus asked, feeling somewhat surprised that she was referring to the beast as a him. It was clearly capable of thought, but such a ruthless killer did not deserve to be called anything other than it.

J'shana pulled back her bowstring. 'With difficulty,' she replied, and loosed the arrow. This one embedded itself in the dragon's mouth just as it prepared to sink its teeth into Sondas's flesh.

The beast whirled around to face her with an ear-splitting roar. 'You cannot win, _Dovahkiin!'_

It reared up on its hind legs, terrible to look at despite the fact that one wing hung crippled and useless. The other, though, was still strong, and now the dragon lifted it and brought it down with all its strength. Derkeethus staggered back as the rush of wind cannoned into him. He managed to right himself, but J'shana was not so lucky – the gust was strong enough to knock the lightweight Khajiit clean off her feet.

She rolled with the fall with the agility that only a Khajiit could ever boast and pushed herself up onto her knees. Her bow had been knocked from her grasp, and she reached out for it. But the dragon's mouth was open and Derkeethus heard it sucking in a deep breath. A moment later, a raging inferno would pour from its jaws and burn J'shana to a crisp.

But just for a moment, as it lifted its head, its throat was exposed. Unprotected flesh where life bubbled close to the surface. Vulnerable. Defenceless. Easy to tear away. And the pickaxe Derkeethus had cast aside earlier in favour of Eiran's bow was lying at his feet.

Afterwards, he was never quite sure how he did it. But suddenly, in that single moment, he knew that he would not let J'shana come to harm. And so, in one movement, the Argonian reached down, snatched up the pickaxe, and hurled it through the air.

The spiked head of the axe sank into the flesh of the dragon's throat, burying itself right up to the handle.

The dragon reeled backwards, its eyes wide. A horrible gagging noise filled the air as it tried to breathe. A trickle of blood started to flow down the dull scales, quickly thickening to a flow.

A spasm ran through its body as it slumped to the ground. Its talons gouged deep lines in the earth as it writhed, but little by little its struggles grew weaker. It lifted its head, and for a moment it stared at Derkeethus with a look of pure disbelief on its face.  
J'shana pushed herself up off the ground and onto her feet. Drawing a single arrow from her quiver, she slowly approached the fallen dragon. It could do nothing to stop her as she drew back her bowstring and aimed it at the dragon's head.

_'Zu los krod, zeymah,'_ she whispered, and even though he didn't understand the words, there was so much sorrow in them that Derkeethus suddenly felt as if fatally wounding the dragon had been a terrible crime.

J'shana let the arrow fly. It struck the dragon's left eye, and cut right through, into the brain. The dragon went limp instantly, as if there had been props holding it up which had suddenly been snatched away. And a third body lay on the ground, its blood steadily dripping down off its scales and soaking into the torn earth.

Silence descended upon the village for the first time since the dragon's arrival. Glancing around, Derkeethus saw Annekke, Verner, Sondas and the two remaining guards staring at the creature's unmoving form with apprehensive expressions, as if they expected it to leap up and attack again at any second. But it didn't.

It was dead. They had killed it. They had fought a dragon together, and they had won.

Derkeethus felt like letting out the loudest and longest cheer of his life, but just then, something happened that the sound die just as it was forming in his mouth.

In front of his eyes, the dragon's body started to burn.

Flames were licking at the brown scales, flames so bright and vivid in colour that it was very nearly painful to look at them. Every part of the dragon's body that they touched seemed to be absorbed into them – not only the scales, but the skin, the flesh. And then the fire started to float, swathes of flame simply lifted up off what was left of the dragon's body, until nothing was left but the bare skeleton.

As it rose, the fire changed, transforming itself into a swirling ball of pure white light. A ball that suddenly unravelled and became a river, a river that snaked forwards through the air, glowing brighter than the sun –

And flowed into J'shana.

The Khajiit stood still as a mountain, her head tipped back, her bow held limply in one hand, her arms slightly outstretched. She neither move nor spoke as the light surrounded her. With a whispering sound, like wind through trees, it gradually soaked into her body, briefly making her shimmer as if there were stars trapped in her fur. For a moment, she tensed, her pelt bristling.

Then the last of the light was gone. The dragon's bones lay stretched out in the sunlight, white and clean. J'shana stood over them, breathing hard, her fur rustling as if a breeze was stirring it. But there was no wind.

Derkeethus stared and stared, desperately trying to understand what he had just seen. It was no easy task, because he wasn't sure what he had seen.

The dragon had died. Its body had crumpled and the light had died from its remaining eye. And then something from it, its essence, perhaps, had left that body and been absorbed by J'shana.

And then the Septim dropped.

There were stories of a warrior, a hero, a legend. A mortal with a dragon's soul, a mysterious and ancient blessing bestowed upon them by Akatosh himself. One who could Shout in the dragon tongue, using the power of the Voice. The only person on Nirn who could truly kill a dragon, by absorbing its soul when it died.

The one they called Dragonborn.

No sooner had the realisation hit him than he heard the word whispered by one of the guards, a young Nord whose name Derkeethus didn't know. The look on his face was one of pure awe.

'She's Dragonborn,' Annekke breathed in Verner's ear, and her husband nodded dumbly. Hrefna and Tormir, who had emerged from their hiding place in the mine, stared at J'shana with wide eyes. And not only the Nords seemed amazed; Sondas's mouth was hanging half open.

Derkeethus felt like he should say something, or do something, but what was there to do or say? J'shana looked between them, her eyes travelling over each of them in turn. The guards, Annekke and Verner all bowed their heads as the Khajiit looked at them, and Tormir, Hrefna and Sondas all turned their gazes to the ground.

Finally, J'shana's head turned to face Derkeethus. The expression on her face… Derkeethus could only describe it as despair. Her eyes seemed to be pleading.

Derkeethus did not look away, but only because his entire body felt frozen.

J'shana let out a soft sigh. 'I should go,' she murmured, and turned away.

Derkeethus watched her, walking away from them down the road, her head and tail drooping. And he knew that somehow he and the other residents of the Crossing had upset her, badly.  
That realisation was quickly followed by another. He didn't want J'shana to leave. Not like this. She was the Dragonborn, but what did that matter? She had saved his life. She was his friend. Why was she leaving?

He didn't realise that he had started running after her until he had reached her. 'Where are you going?' he heard himself call.

She kept walking. 'Away,' she said heavily.

'But why?'

She stopped, but still didn't face him. 'This one cannot stand it,' she whispered.

'Stand what?'

She turned her head towards him without moving the rest of her body.

'The staring. People treating me like I'm different.'

Derkeethus shook his head slightly, taken aback. She _was_ different. She was a living legend. 'But you are Dragonborn. What's wrong with that?'

Finally she turned around, and took a step backwards, away from him. She extended her hands, indicating the space between the two of them. 'This,' she said.

His frown deepened.

'The separation!' J'shana burst out. 'Feeling like there is a distance of a million miles between me and everyone else on Nirn. Last night, when we were all talking together, I was your equal. And it felt so good, being a normal person. Being accepted. Like I was the same as everyone else. I hadn't felt like that in a long time.' She let out a desperate sigh. 'And now that has been lost. No one from this village will ever see me as J'shana again. All they will ever see is the Dragonborn. That's why I can't stay.'

Derkeethus still didn't understand. 'Most people would be proud of it.'

'I am proud!' J'shana's eyes widened. 'Of course I am proud to have been chosen. But I wish it came without the price it does.' She shook her head sadly. 'It makes me feel so lonely. It seems I am destined to defeat Alduin, and I have a long path to walk before I can face him. And it is one I have to walk alone.'

Derkeethus felt his heart go out to her. That was so unfair, so wrong. J'shana had shown herself to be incredibly brave, facing the dragon and the Falmer as she had. There was no doubt in his mind that she deserved her power. It wasn't fair that it should be a burden to her, make her feel so separate.

He looked at the Khajiit, and he realised something. He still saw J'shana. He saw the Dragonborn too, but he also saw the woman who had saved his life. If someone had asked him is she was his friend, he would have said yes. If they had asked him the same question five minutes ago, his answer would have been the same. Nothing had changed.

'You don't have to be alone,' he said quietly.

She sighed again. 'J'shana wishes that were true. But I don't wish for the company of a…' She gestured vaguely with her hands. 'This one doesn't know if there is a word for it in your tongue. One who follows blindly and takes orders. Not after what happened to Lydia.' Her voice became slightly choked on the final words.

Derkeethus had no idea who Lydia was, but it was safe to presume that she had been J'shana's friend, or at least a travelling companion, and that some terrible fate had befallen her. Was this why the Khajiit was so lonely? Because she was afraid of becoming close to anyone, in case something happened to them?

'What about a friend?' he ventured. 'Would you care for the company of a friend?'

She opened her mouth as if to reply, but no words came out.

'You said yourself, you have trouble reading maps.' Derkeethus shrugged. 'Let me go with you. I don't go outside the Crossing much, but I do know the way to Riften.'

She shook her head. 'It's too dangerous.'

'I still owe you my life,' Derkeethus told her. 'Let me repay my debt to you.'

'You owe J'shana nothing. She would be dead had you not killed that dragon when you did.'

'But if I can kill a dragon, surely it's not too dangerous for me?'

He knew he was taking a chance there. They both knew that it had been luck more than judgement, that had enabled him to strike that final blow. But he was determined to do this. He hated the thought of J'shana taking such a task upon herself with no one to help her.

The Khajiit and the Argonian stood there, facing each other, each seemingly trying to work out the other. For perhaps ten seconds they stayed there, neither of them speaking or even blinking.

Derkeethus did not learn for a long time what made J'shana make the decision she did. It was not until months later that he asked her, and her reply made it clear that even she was uncertain.

But at the time, he did not question it when she answered, 'All right.'

She breathed in deeply. 'Just as far as Riften. Until I've found the man I'm meant to meet there. I will be glad of the company.' She hesitated, and then added, 'That of a friend.'

She extended her hand to him, and he shook it. Once again, he found himself marvelling at the smoothness of that silky ash-grey fur.

Two days later, after they had travelled to Riften, met the man named Brynjolf, fought their way through the Ratway, battled the Thalmor, found Esbern, escorted him to Riverwood, defeated an entire camp of Forsworn, and found Sky Haven Temple, both of them had completely forgotten that Derkeethus had been going to return to Darkwater Crossing once J'shana's business with Brynjolf was complete.

Or perhaps, Derkeethus thought with a smile, they had remembered it. It was simply that neither of them had wanted to say it.

* * *

**I've a feeling I enjoy writing dragon battles too much...**

**Draconic translations:**

**_Dovah! Helt!_ - Dragon! Stop!**

**_Joor mey. Hi los sahlo. Hi fen dir. Pah joor fen dir! - _Mortal fool. You are weak. You will die. All mortals will die!**

**_Dreh hi ni fraan ziidol wah ald tuum hi, Dovahkiin? - _Do you not feel the urge to destroy within you, Dragonborn?**

**_Pahlok joorre! Hi fen dir fah daar! - _Arrogant mortals! You will die for this!**

**_Zu los krod, zeymah - _I am sorry, brother.**

**If you're wondering what happened to Lydia, sadly she was killed at Kynesgrove by Sahloknir. ****If you have any more questions (and I think I might have caused there to be a few) feel free to ask!**

**Chapter three should be up shortly! Thanks for reading. :D**


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm so sorry this took so long. I had a few problems working out what exactly I wanted to put into this chapter, and so it ended up a lot longer than it was going to be. The original draft was longer! Plus... writer's block. :/**

**Again, this chapter's almost all flashback, but the next chapter will be back to the present again.**

**The Ta'agra words in this chapter come from its conlang dictionary, and the Draconic comes from www . thuum. org.**

**Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

The sky was growing lighter now as the sun crawled slowly higher through the sky. Derkeethus wasn't sure how long he had been standing there, but he was beyond caring. Time meant nothing any more, not to him.

He was still holding the ring. The cold metal had become warm. He had no idea what he was going to do with it, now that it would never be needed. He knew that he could never and would never get rid of it. He had poured too much of his love for J'shana into it; to throw away the ring would be a betrayal.

He had been so certain that he would give it to her once she returned from Snow Veil. He'd had everything he was going to say clear in his mind. They would have been married in the Temple of Mara – perhaps they would have been able to persuade Erandur to come to Riften to perform the ceremony. They would have spent the rest of their lives together.

And now one arrow had taken all of that away from them.

He smiled sadly. They had come so far, the two of them, since that day they had slain the dragon in Darkwater Crossing. Back then, they had hardly known each other. And yet over time they had come to care for each other so deeply that it had led to Derkeethus making this ring – moulding the silver into the perfect shape, carefully setting those three pieces of amber into the metal, steeling himself to give it to J'shana…

When had it started? What, exactly, had it been that began it all?

He had always cared for J'shana, right from the beginning. At first it had simply been because he was so grateful to her for saving him. But it had soon become something more. Gratitude had become friendship, and friendship had turned to love.

He cast his mind back, remembering everything they had been through together. For the first time, he realised when it was that everything had begun.

Over the weeks that followed the fall of the dragon that had attacked the Crossing, Derkeethus had stayed true to his word. He had walked – and fought - alongside J'shana as she continued on her quest. Together, they had discovered Sky Haven Temple, spoken to Paarthurnax on the Throat of the World, and delved into the depths of the Dwarven ruin Alftand to find an artefact Derkeethus had only ever heard of in stories. An Elder Scroll.

The more time Derkeethus spent with J'shana, the more he learned about her. She rarely mentioned her family, and when she did, she never said much about them. She might make a comment about alchemy and add, 'That was one of the first things my mother ever taught me,' or make a particularly difficult shot with an arrow and remark, 'I wish my father could have seen that.' Once they were ambushed by a trio of sabre cats while on the road. Together they had brought them all down, but J'shana had looked at the bodies regretfully and murmured, 'I hate killing those things. They remind me of my uncle.'

Other than hearing her make the occasional comment about it, Derkeethus learned a little about the Khajiit's past in another way. Every night after they set up camp, one of the two of them would sleep, while the other would keep watch; the wilds of Skyrim were dangerous even at daytime, but at night even more so. And more than a few times, when Derkeethus took the first watch, he would hear J'shana talking in her sleep.

She never did it very loudly, and she always spoke in Ta'agra, so he had no idea what she was talking about. But there were words that she repeated often, and he gradually came to realise that they were names. _Ahnurr _and _Fado _he heard several times, and he suspected that they might be the words for _father _and _mother. _Other names, too – M'siri, Khumovi, Jo'tsarr. He had no idea who these people might be, but he guessed they were either her siblings or close friends.

And from the way that her tail would lash and her voice would be filled with fear and anguish as she spoke the names, he had a horrible feeling that something terrible had happened to them.

He didn't ask, though. Of course he didn't ask; it would have been completely wrong to intrude. J'shana clearly didn't want to talk about her past, and so he didn't ask about it.

There were clues, though. And by the time that Paarthurnax sent them on their mission to find the Elder Scroll, Derkeethus had a fairly clear idea of what might have brought J'shana to Skyrim.

He didn't realise that the first clue he was given even was a clue until some weeks later. He hadn't noticed it at the time, but when he thought back, he realised that when he and J'shana had fought the Thalmor to free Esbern, there had been a look in the Khajiit's eyes that he had never seen in them before or since - a mix of pure hatred and burning rage. She had fought like the dragon she half was, her teeth bared and her ears flattened, killing without mercy or restraint. It had been the first time Derkeethus had ever heard her use the _thu'um, _and the only time he had ever seen her show no regret after taking a life.

Derkeethus knew that many mortals had reason to hate the Thalmor. He himself had no love for them, and he despised the fact that his Nord friends in the crossing had been forced to worship Talos either in secret or not at all. But J'shana was so calm and so merciful most of the time. If she could be so… vicious when faced with the Aldmeri Dominion, then it seemed logical that she had a personal reason to hate them.

Another clue Derkeethus picked up on was the fact that J'shana never referred to her family in the present tense. From the way she spoke of them – thought it had to be said, she didn't speak about them much - it definitely sounded like they were dead and gone.

The Argonian had put the pieces together. A lonely Khajiit girl. Nightmares where she called out the names of the people she cared about. A lost family. A hatred for the Thalmor.

It certainly seemed that whatever had happened to J'shana's kin, the Thalmor were responsible.

He didn't know what might have happened to them. After all, as far as he knew, Elsweyr was allied with the Dominion. But he knew that his guess made sense.

His suspicion was confirmed one night as they made their way towards Alftand, hoping to find and retrieve the Elder Scroll. Despite what lay ahead, they were both in fairly high spirits – they knew well that journey through the gloom of Alftand was certain to be long and exhausting, but they were reasonably certain that no harm would come to them. J'shana's handmade potions would be able to heal the worst of their injuries, so hopefully the worst they would receive nothing worse than cuts and bruises from encounters with Dwemer constructs and Falmer. Derkeethus had almost died from sheer horror when he realised that he would soon be seeing the loathsome, twisted elves again, but with J'shana beside him, he hadn't been anywhere near as frightened as he would have expected to be. He was ready to face the creatures. Together, the two of them would make it through, and with any luck they would soon have a breath-taking prize to show for it – the Elder Scroll they needed to let J'shana cast herself back in time and learn the Dragonrend Shout from its creators.

They had been on the road for about two hours, steadily making their way towards the distant Dwarven citadel, when J'shana had suddenly stopped, her sharp amber eyes narrowing to slits.

'Do you see something?' she asked, pointing at the horizon.

Derkeethus lifted a hand to his forehead and peered along the road. At first, he saw nothing; then he caught sight of a small procession heading their way. There were only four people, from the look of it, but it was impossible to make out their features from such a distance. One was a blur of black, two smudges of gold, and one a streak of brown.

'Friends or foes, do you think?' he asked, glancing at J'shana.

The Khajiit's ears flicked. 'Impossible to tell. We'll soon see.'

Derkeethus's hand dropped to his belt, where he still carried his pickaxe. He knew that it would make far more sense to use a proper weapon such as a sword or war axe, but this pickaxe had killed a dragon and saved J'shana's life. He couldn't bring himself to stop using it, even if it wasn't the most efficient weapon.

The party of four grew slowly closer, and suddenly Derkeethus heard a low growl rumble in J'shana's throat. 'Thalmor,' she snarled, and lifted her bow down from her back.

'They might not be looking for trouble,' Derkeethus said, hoping that she wouldn't do anything rash. He had never known the Khajiit to do anything reckless, but there was always a first time.

'Hopefully,' she replied. 'But we should be ready for trouble. The Thalmor don't need excuses to murder the innocent.'

The kept walking, and it was not until a few moments had passed that Derkeethus realised that J'shana had moved a little closer to him. He didn't have long to dwell on it, though, because the Thalmor had almost reached them. Now they were closer, he could see that one was a mage in the usual black and gold robes, two were soldiers in glittering golden armour, and the final member of the party was a Nord man, his hands bound in front of him and his ragged clothes streaked with blood.

J'shana's fur began to bristle, and Derkeethus couldn't stop anger from welling up within him. What right did these elves have to capture innocent citizens of Skyrim simply on the grounds of who they worshipped?

But his anger quickly turned to unease as J'shana stepped into the middle of the road, blocking the path.

The Thalmor continued to walk towards them, as if they expected her to step aside. But when she didn't, they came to a stop. Derkeethus saw the prisoner glance anxiously from side to side, as if considering making a run for it, but one of the soldiers stepped forwards and grasped his arm.

'Get out of the way, cat,' the elf in the robes snapped. 'You are interrupting important Thalmor business.'

J'shana pointed with her bow at the prisoner. 'Where are you taking that man?' she demanded.

'He is a suspected Stormcloak and a known Talos worshipper,' the Justiciar replied. 'We are taking him to be punished as heretics deserve.' His yellow eyes narrowed. 'Why should it concern you? You don't happen to worship Talos yourself, do you?'

'I am a Khajiit,' J'shana spat. 'I follow my pantheon as the Nords follow theirs.'

The second soldier's lip curled. 'What exactly do you mean by that?'

'I mean that every mortal should have the right to worship who they believe in, and that no one else has the right to tell them what to think or what is true.'

The mage lifted his hands, lightning spells beginning to crackle in his palms. 'In other words, you are a heretic.'

J'shana bared every one of her sharp white teeth. 'I am a _Tygra.'_

Every one of them moved at once. The mage cast a lightning bolt at J'shana, who ducked and, in one swift movement, whipped her dagger from her belt and slashed at the Thalmor agent's legs, casuing him to drop to his knees with a howl. One of the two soldiers rushed at Derkeethus, who, without time to draw and load his bow, lifted his pickaxe. He parried the first blow from the elf's sword and leaped back in time to dodge the second, then struck out in a sweeping blow that wrenched the sword from his enemy's hands and sent it skidding over the cobblestones. The elf reached for her dagger, but Derkeethus wasted no time in bringing down his weapon. The head of the pickaxe punched into her throat, one of the few parts of her body not covered by armour. She died instantly, collapsing to the ground in a crumpled heap.

The Argonian took a step back and tried to catch his breath. The robed mage already lay dead with one of J'shana's arrows in his heart, his face twisted with fear and pain. The remaining soldier was battling J'shana, who was dancing just out of reach of his mace. The prisoner was lying on the ground, having either fallen or been pushed over, struggling to rise. Derkeethus snatched up the dead soldier's sword and rushed over to the Nord, helping him to his feet and cutting through the leather strips that bound his wrists.

'Thanks,' the man said weakly, as the bonds fell aside.

'Don't mention it,' Derkeethus said, holding out the sword. 'Here, you'd better take this and get out of here.'

The Nord took the blade and glanced at J'shana. 'Will you two be all right?'

Derkeethus nodded grimly. The elf stood no chance against J'shana – she was the Dragonborn, after all. 'We'll be fine. Just get out of here.'

The Nord didn't seem to need telling twice. With a swift nod, he turned and sped away down the road.

The Argonian spun around, ready to help J'shana deal with the final elf, but he quickly realised that there was no need. From the way her eyes were smouldering and her tail was lashing, it was easy to see what was coming. Derkeethus quickly backed away, making sure he was behind the Khajiit, as the air around her began to thrum. He saw her open her mouth, and a moment later three words ran out through the air, roared at the top of J'shana's voice.

'_Fus RO DAH!'_

From what J'shana had told him about the Voice, Derkeethus knew that the meaning of the words was _force balance push. _But those three words didn't even begin to describe what Shouting them caused. Three words – that was all it took to hurl the elf into the air and send him flying. Three words were enough to slam him back into the ground with enough force that even from where he stood, Derkeethus could hear the bones snap. Three words rendered him unable to move, unable to fight – and unable to avoid the arrow that J'shana sent into his throat.

Derkeethus lowered his pickaxe with an exhausted sigh. He hadn't expected the battle to end so quickly. He turned to smile at J'shana, to see her standing with a look of pure fear on her face. She was trembling.

'It almost took control,' she whispered.

The Khajiit took a few nervous steps away from the bodies of the three Thalmor agents. 'The dragon in me,' she whispered. 'I nearly gave in to it.'

She was still shaking. Derkeethus hurried over to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. For a moment, she stood without moving. Then she let out a soft wail, buried her head in his chest, and cried.

Derkeethus had realised long ago that when he was with J'shana, he often found himself doing things without thinking, and only realised that he'd done them a few seconds later. On this particular occasion, he didn't notice for some time that he had wrapped his arms around her. She didn't seem to mind.

'I try so hard to control it,' J'shana said, through muffled sobs. 'It helps, in some ways. I can never be afraid in battle any more. But I'm so afraid that it'll take me over.'

'It won't,' Derkeethus murmured. 'You're too strong for it.'

'I hope so.' J'shana pulled back slightly, but not so much that he had to let go. 'But whenever I face the Thalmor, the rage of my dragon soul is strengthened by that of my mortal soul. And it's so powerful, Keeth. Too powerful.'

'Why do you hate the Thalmor so much?' The question slipped out of his mouth before he could stop it, and he silently cursed his own stupidity. 'I'm sorry. You don't have to – '

'No, it's all right.' She swallowed, blinking back tears. 'No one else alive knows the truth, because I could never trust anyone else with it. But I think I can trust you with it.' She shook her head forcefully. 'No, I _know _I can trust you. I don't think I can say much… It's still too close. But if there is one person on Nirn who I can tell, then it's you.'

Night was drawing in, so they had stopped there, moved off the road, and pitched their camp in a sheltered hollow, away from the site of the battle. Derkeethus knew that J'shana would tell him about why she hated the Thalmor when she was ready, so he didn't mention it. It was not until they had lit a fire and were sitting side by side, watching the flames, that the Khajiit finally began to speak.

'My full name is J'shana Tygra,' she began. 'The Khajiit, as a rule, do not have family names in the way that humans and some elves do. Tygra is the name of my clan. We lived in the heart of the Tenmar forest, hunting, gathering, and occasionally fighting with our neighbours. But for the most part we kept separate from the outside world. We did not appreciate the fact that the Dominion ruled Elsweyr, but it never affected us. Not until they came to find us.'

She had not looked away from the fire at all while she had been speaking, and she was still staring into the flames. 'They wanted to take a census of us. But we knew that if they did, we'd be registered as full citizens of the Dominion. And then they might involve us in their wars, enlist us as their soldiers. Worse, they might try to turn us away from our own religion.'

'Your own religion?' Derkeethus repeated. He felt it was wrong to interrupt, but her words surprised him. He had never thought that the Khajiit religion was all that different to that of most of the rest of Tamriel.

J'shana smiled sadly. 'The Tygra have – had – a special belief of our own.' She waved one hand dismissively. 'It is not important. What is important was that we refused to let the Thalmor count us and register us. They told us that if we didn't submit, they would use force. And we didn't submit, and so… they used force.'

Her eye filled with tears again, and he buried her face in her hands. 'I saw them die. All of them. Every one. My best friends, M'siri and Khumovi. The shaman, Jo'tsarr, who was too old to even lift a weapon, let alone fight back. My mother. My father.' Her voice was so choked now that it was hard to make out what she was saying. 'But they let me live. My father was _pakseech – _the tribe leader. They wanted to take him, but when he died, they took me instead. They were going to execute me, make an example. I escaped and… I ran. I've been running ever since.'

Derkeethus slipped his arm around her shoulders. He didn't know what to say. What was there to say? No wonder she was so lonely, so afraid to become close to anyone.

'That's partly why I find it so difficult so simply accept the fact that I am Dragonborn,' J'shana whispered. 'Every other member of the Tygra died that day. I should have died with them. But the Gods kept me alive because they needed me for some greater destiny.' She lifted a hand and unsuccessfully attempted to brush the tears away from her eyes.

'You mean you wanted to die?' Derkeethus stared at her in shock. 'You'd rather have been murdered by the Thalmor?'

'No!' J'shana burst out, then she hesitated. 'Maybe. Yes. _No.' _She buried her face in her hands. 'I don't know.'

Derkeethus tried to imagine how he might have felt had their places been reversed. If he'd been the one to see his family brutally slaughtered. If he'd lost everything he cared about and been forced to run for his life. He would have been devastated, he knew that – but would he have wished he had died? He didn't think so. Life was so precious, so beautiful. It wasn't something to wish away.

'I'm glad you survived,' he said truthfully. 'Who would have saved me if you hadn't?'

J'shana lifted her head, smiling up at him through her tears. 'Yes, that's something. That is definitely something.'

She breathed in deeply. 'Thank you for listening, Derkeethus.'

'Thank you for telling me,' he said, then realised how strange that sounded. 'I mean… it means a lot to me that you trust me that much.'

She met his gaze, her face very serious. 'I trust you more than I trust anyone else on the surface of Nirn.'

The simple statement was at the same time the most heartwarming and heartbreaking thing Derkeethus had ever been told. Heartbreaking because it showed just how lonely she must be, if the person she trusted most as a man she had only known for a few weeks. And heartwarming because… well, how could it not be?

Derkeethus stared into J'shana's eyes. And he very quickly realised that he did not want to look away.

* * *

That had been the spark. Somehow, the revelation about J'shana's past made Derkeethus see her differently. It changed the way he felt about her forever.

Before, he had seen her as a friend, someone he was travelling with so that he might help her in her quest. But that night, everything changed. That night was when he started to feel a burning desire to protect her, to keep her safe no matter what happened, to stand by her not just until her quest was done, but every day after that.

He said nothing about it, of course. He wasn't an Argonian who denied his own feelings; he knew he was falling for J'shana. But he didn't want to risk anything by being foolish. There was no reason to believe that she would be interested in him. And he had been afraid that they were simply too different. Derkeethus would be the first to admit, even now, that he and J'shana were an odd match. For a start, they were of two vastly different races, and the Khajiit and the Argonians had never been on the best terms. And then there was the fact that J'shana was the prophesied saviour of Nirn, and he was a miner and a fisherman. They were about as different as night and day.

Except… night couldn't exist without day, could it? And there was that old saying, 'opposites attract.' Well, an opposite was definitely attracting him.

He had plenty of time to think as they continued their journey to Alftand and battled their way through the ancient city. And he found that most of his thoughts circled around the Khajiit. He realised how much he loved seeing her smile and hearing her laugh. She didn't do either of those things enough. Maybe he could help with that.

She smiled when she saw the Elder Scroll, though. When they finally worked out how to open the contraption that concealed it from them, and the prize they had come all this way for had slid down from the ceiling and shone in the light in front of them, she let out a squeal of delight that was half a purr and gave Derkeethus a gleeful hug. And just for a moment, he saw something in those normally serious amber eyes – a ghost of the happy, carefree girl she must once have been before the Thalmor tore her life apart.

The return journey to the Throat of the World was uneventful, but what followed afterwards most certainly was not. No sooner had J'shana closed the Elder Scroll than there had been a roar, a roar a thousand times fiercer and more terrifying than that of the dragon that had attacked Darkwater Crossing. Paarthurnax let out a desperate warning growl, J'shana gasped out, 'It's him,' the air itself seemed to tremble –

And Alduin dropped from the sky.

Had the World Eater encountered them only a few weeks previously, Derkeethus was fairly certain that he would have slaughtered them within minutes. But both Khajiit and Argonian had changed since they had set out towards Riften the day the Crossing had been attacked. J'shana had always been a good fighter, but her power over the Voice was growing, and (except perhaps when she was facing the Thalmor) she was in tune enough with her _dovah _soul to let it lend her strength without it taking her over. As for Derkeethus, he had learned much on the course of their quest. He had become stronger, braver, fiercer, wiser. In fact, cliché as it sounded, he thought the correct way to describe what had happened to him was that he had become a warrior.

A slightly inexperienced and rather nervous warrior, to be sure. But strong enough to put up a fight. And a good fight, at that.

And so they had won. Temporarily, at least. Alduin had fled, wounded and – Derkeethus was just brave enough to think it – frightened. He was not defeated, but he had been given a beating he would not soon forget. Unfortunately, he _had _escaped, which meant a long trek to Whiterun to ask Jarl Balgruuf if they could use his palace to trap a dragon, a long trek back to High Hrothgar to ask Arngeir if they could hold a peace council in his monastery, a longer trek to Windhelm to ask Ulfric Stormcloak if he would attend, and then yet another long trek to Solitude to ask Tullius the same.

The peace council itself had not been a blinding success. True, Ulfric and Tullius had agreed not to try to obliterate each other until after the dragon menace had been handled, but the actual proceedings of the council had been far from smooth. Elenwen's appearance had caused both Ulfric and J'shana to jump to their feet and demand that she leave, provoking a furious debate about whether or not she had a right to be there. Even after the Thalmor First Emissary had left with her nose in the air and a look of unbelievable smugness on her face, things had not improved. What had seemed like a fair trade to Derkeethus – Markarth for Riften – was denounced by Tullius as 'handing Skyrim over to the rebels on a platter' and J'shana's tentative question of 'Sorry, but what exactly happened at Karthwasten?' caused the Imperial general to accuse her of being a 'damned Stormcloak sympathiser,' and he had quickly added that he thought the entire council a waste of time. And Ulfric hadn't been all that much better – he seemed intent on infuriating Tullius and Elisif at every possible opportunity, and he'd done a pretty effective job of infuriating Derkeethus as well.

Derkeethus hadn't said much during the meeting, though he had been longing to make a comment about the fact that Galmar Stone-Fist appeared to be wearing a dead bear on his head, but something had told him it wouldn't be appreciated. But despite the high tension, he realised with hindsight that he had actually rather enjoyed it. The arguments had been tedious to listen to, but there had been some lighter moments. After J'shana's inquiry after Karthwasten, for example, Tullius had started lecturing her about the consequences of siding with the rebels and how, as Dragonborn, he would have expected her to have the best interests of Skyrim at heart, and so on and so forth. As he continued to rant, J'shana had leaned over and whispered to Derkeethus, 'I only asked.'

He had almost burst out laughing, but had just managed to stop himself.

Eventually, all had departed, and the trap in Whiterun was ready to be sprung. Derkeethus had serious misgivings about the whole thing, and he was certain that J'shana did too, though he was just as sure that she wouldn't admit it in front of anyone else. With a look of calm determination on her face she had called out the name of the dragon she had been told to summon: Odahviing. _Snow hunter wing._

The battle with the blood-red dragon had been swift, and had ended with only a single casualty – a hapless guard who was snatched off the balcony in Odahviing's vicious jaws and hurled to his death far below. But the dragon's pride had soon been humbled when the trap had been released.

Derkeethus could remember every word of the conversation that followed. J'shana had spoken to the dragon politely and respectfully, almost as if she was addressing a distant relative she had just met for the first time. Which, in a way, she had. Wasn't she supposed to be kin to all dragons?

Odahviing had divulged the information they needed; Alduin was hiding in Sovngarde itself, which he could access via a portal in a place called Skuldafn. And then he had revealed something else: that Skuldafn was impossible to reach except by the air. There was only one way for J'shana to gain access to the portal, and that was on the back of a dragon.

And so the deal had been struck. Odahviing would be released, if he let J'shana ride him to Skuldafn. J'shana had arranged the whole thing so quickly and calmly that Derkeethus found it hard to believe it. It took some time for the enormity of what was happening to seek in. This dragon would take J'shana to some far-flung place which no ordinary mortal could reach. She would have to fight her way to a portal between the worlds, venture into the land of the dead, and somehow find a way to fight and kill Alduin. Alduin, the World Eater, the First-Born of Akatosh, who would have grown strong and bloodthirsty by feeding on the souls of the dead.

Derkeethus knew that he could do nothing to help her defeat Alduin. It was her destiny, not his, and he doubted that he would even be able to enter the portal. But surely he could help her, at least for some of the way? He had often vowed to her, both with his voice and with his mind, that he would walk alongside her. How could he break that promise now?

'Will it be dangerous?' he heard himself asking.

Odahviing had looked at him as if he hadn't even realised Derkeethus was there. 'Will what be _haskei, joor?'_

'Skuldafn,' Derkeethus said, dimly aware that he was talking to a dragon that had been trying to kill him only a few minutes previously. 'Will there be enemies there?'

The red dragon inclined his head. 'Alduin will not leave his _miiraak, _his portal, unguarded.'

Derkeethus nodded slowly. 'Then I'm going with J'shana.'

'I have agreed to bear the _Dovahkiin _to Skuldafn.' Odahviig let out a low growl. 'I have made no promise to carry another, _siigoniis.'_

'Perhaps you hope that she will be killed,' Derkeethus snapped. 'I will not let that happen. She is not leaving without me.'

He looked at J'shana as he spoke, and he saw a small smile playing around her lips.

'Odahviing,' she said, 'would you be able to carry two?'

The dragon looked irritated. _'Geh_. But your _fahdon _cannot accompany you to Sovngarde, _Dovahkiin.'_

'We both know that.' J'shana folded her arms. 'But Derkeethus and I are together in this for as long as we can be.'

Odahviing thumped his tail on the floor of the porch. 'Very well, _kaaz. _I shall take you both to Skuldafn. Once you have entered the portal, I shall then bear the _siigoniis _to the _Monahven. _He can wait there for your return – if return you do.'

And so they had set the dragon free from the trap. He had hurried over to the edge of the balcony, and for an awful moment Derkeethus thought that he was going to break his word and fly away. But instead, he had lowered his head. J'shana had gracefully leaped up onto the back of his neck, holding onto his horns, and Derkeethus had clambered up after her.

'Come then, _joorre,' _Odahviing growled. 'It is time for you to see _Keizaal _as the _dovahhe do.'_

He had leaped forwards without warning, flinging himself out into empty space. For a single second they had plummeted down. Then the vast, canopy-like wings had unfurled and pushed against the air, and they were rising, rising higher and higher still, into a bright noon sky.

Even though they were heading towards a place from which they might never return, and despite the fact that within hours, J'shana would be facing one of the most powerful beings in existence, Derkeethus found himself grinning with delight. Skyrim looked so beautiful, seen from the sky. The jagged mountains shone brilliant white in the sunlight, looking almost as if someone had smothered them with icing, and the rivers wound through the forests and valleys in wonderfully intricate patterns. Thick swathes of trees bent double in the wind, rippling like a pool of green water.

This was Skyrim. This was his home. And never before had it looked so incredible. Never before had he wanted so badly to protect it.

Hours passed, and they had arrived at Skuldafn some time before evening. Odahviing departed, though he promised that he would linger nearby in order to take Derkeethus to the Throat of the World once J'shana had entered the portal. As the red dragon had predicted, reaching the gateway was not easy. Two different dragons ambushed them in quick succession before they had even been in the place half an hour, and the hallways were infested with Draugr. The two of them spent an uneasy night in the ancient temple, huddled together for warmth, jolting awake at the slightest sound. When it seemed that dawn had come, though of course it was impossible to tell underground, they set off again, and by mid-morning they had reached the portal.

They also reached its trio of guardians.

Until that moment, with the obvious exceptions of Odahviing and Alduin, Derkeethus had only encountered dragons of lesser power. The one that had attacked the Crossing had been muddy brown in colour, and those that had attacked him and J'shana on their travels had either been brown too, or pale green with flattened, spade-shaped tails. The two dragons that were waiting for them beside the portal were nothing like the ones he'd fought before. They were nowhere near as powerful-looking as Alduin, but both seemed to emanate confidence and strength. One was ice-white with vast black spines, and the other had scaled of pale bronze that shimmered in the weak sunlight.

But it was not the dragons that Derkeethus's eyes were drawn to. It was the man who stood between them. Or was it a man? Could it be described as a man? He… it… was floating above the ground, and even from a distance Derkeethus could see that his hands were crabbed and twisted like those of a corpse. His face was invisible, covered by an elaborately carved metal mask.

'What is it?' he whispered. 'A Draugr?'

J'shana shook her head, her eyes round. 'No. I think… I think it's a dragon priest.'

A terrible, rasping laughter issued from behind the mask. '_Hi lost meyz, dovahkiin, ol Alduin mindok hi fund.'_

J'shana swallowed hard and took a step forwards. '_Dovah haar, kriist ireid. _I go now to Sovngarde to do battle with your master. Do not presume to stand in the way of the destiny the Divines set out for me.'

'_Zu'u Nahkriin. Zu uth nall thurri dein daar miiraak. Zu los gein do Lein Naakin zok mid ahrk. Ov aar nid fent viik zey. Zu los pah suleykaar! Hi fent ni rahn.'_

'What is he saying?' Derkeethus hissed.

J'shana shook her head. 'Oh, most of it is just arrogant blather, but that last bit was 'you shall not pass.'

Derkeethus bit his lip. 'I have a bad feeling about this.'

'You and me both.' J'shana drew an arrow from her quiver and slipped it into place on her bowstring. 'If you will not stand aside, Nahkriin, then we will fight.'

The dragon priest cackled again.

In perfect unison, the two dragons swooped upwards into the air, and Nahkriin lifted his staff and sent a burst of lightning at them. J'shana and Derkeethus fired their arrows in quick sucession, and so the battle begun.

For the first few minutes, the two mortals did little other than hide from their attackers. But then the Frost dragon was downed as J'shana made careful use of the Slow Time Shout, allowing her to aim accurately enough to send an arrow through its throat as it opened its mouth to launch fire at her. It tumbled from the sky in a blur of black and white, and the odds became a little bit nearer to being even.

The Elder dragon, though, seemed to be made of sterner stuff, and Nahkriin allowed no respites in the fighting. Derkeethus and J'shana were forced to be constantly on the move, dodging the dragon's fire and the priest's spells while desperately trying without success to land hits of their own. Several times they saved each other's lives, and still the fighting went on. The Argonian knew that this constant ducking and weaving wouldn't and couldn't last forever. Sooner or later, something would have to give.

And then suddenly the Elder dragon landed at the same moment as Nahkriin momentarily lowered his staff. Derkeethus, who had been knocked from his feet by a blow from the dragon's tail, looked up to see J'shana's Shout hurl Nahkriin backwards, slamming him against a pillar and momentarily stunning him. She didn't wait for him to rise, but leaped up onto the dragon's head in a single athletic bound. She whipped her dagger from its sheath and lifted it high, roaring her battle cry to the heavens. '_Tygraaa!'_

She brought it down with all her strength, smashing it through the dragon's head. The beast let out a terrible howl that faded away to a shallow rasping sound and collapsed onto its side, dislodging J'shana from her perch. The Khajiit snatched up her bow and prepared to rise – only to see Nahkriin looming over her.

Derkeethus had been so transfixed by watching J'shana put an end to the Elder dragon that he hadn't noticed the priest regaining his senses. And Nahkriin had moved fast – so fast that he had covered the distance between himself and the Khajiit in seconds. Derkeethus scrambled to his feet and raced forwards.

Nahkriin struck out without warning. J'shana twisted aside, but the spiked edge of his staff caught a blow on her arm, and she dropped her blow with a yowl. The priest lifted his hand, energy sparking around his fingers, and prepared to strike.

But Derkeethus struck first.

As he had continued on his travels with J'shana, he had slowly begun to become a little concerned about the fact that the enemies they faced never seemed to consider him to be a real threat. He knew that he didn't look anything like a warrior, and that his weapons – a mining tool and a hunting bow – didn't look anything like a warrior's arms. But what his enemies didn't realise, and what he himself hadn't realised until now, was that years of cracking rock and diving for fish had made him strong and fast. There wasn't all that much difference between knowing where to hit a rock to crack it open and where to hit a head to do the same. Just as you needed to be able to react fast enough to duck a sword blow, so you also needed quick reflexes to grasp hold of a fish before it could dart away.

Alduin, Nahkriin, even Odahviing – they all seemed to consider him a hapless tag-along to the Dragonborn. But he was more than that. He _knew _he was more than that.

Nahkriin hadn't realised that. And so he paid the price for turning his back on Derkeethus – and for threatening the woman he had fallen in love with.

The spell flickered, faltered, and faded away from Nahkriin's hand. A long, slow breath rang out through the air, echoing around the metal mask.

Derkeethus pulled the spike of his pickaxe free from the dragon priest's back. And Nahkriin slowly fell sideways, crumpling onto the stone. And as he fell he seemed to shrink and crumble as whatever foul force had kept him alive for all these years left him. By the time he hit the ground, he was nothing but a pile of robes and armour, the staff and the mask resting on top.

With a gasp of relief, Derkeethus dropped to his knees beside J'shana, fishing a healing potion from his pocket. 'Here,' he said, holding it out.

J'shana took it, downed it in a single gulp, tossed the bottle aside and threw her arms around him. A smile spread across Derkeethus's face and he held on tightly, closing his eyes and treasuring this moment, desperate to burn every last detail of it into his memory forever.

Finally, they both rose to their feet, and J'shana released him with a quiet sigh. 'The portal,' she said, waving a hand towards it, although she did not look at it. 'How do we open it?'

Derkeethus forced himself to look away from her, examining the spiral that was carved onto the floor. 'Perhaps it is something to do with that dais?'

The Khajiit hurried up the steps and gazed at the stone beneath her feet for a moment. 'Can you bring me Nahkriin's staff?'

Derkeethus obeyed, and J'shana took it from his hands and inserted the base into a hole in the stone. And suddenly the ground ahead of them seemed to split apart, rising up and then sinking down, revealing what they had come all this way for.

Whatever he had imagined a portal to Sovngarde would look like, it hadn't been this. It was a whirlpool of colours and energy, as if someone had mixed up a thousand different dyes, thrown in some stars and added some lightning. At the centre of the pool was a spot of light that glowed so bright it was impossible to look at, and Derkeethus knew without needed to be told that that speck of brightness was the gateway to another world.

A word which J'shana was about to go to. A world from which she might never return.

All she had to do was jump from the platform, and he might never see her again.

He looked at her, and saw that she was already staring at him. His throat felt suddenly tight. Was this the last time he would ever see her? Whatever he said to her now, would those be the last words he ever said to her?

'J'shana…' he began, and his voice trailed off. What could he say? Were there any words that could possibly describe the way he felt right now? The way he felt about her?'

'Good luck,' he said finally, looking away. It was all he trusted himself to say.

'Thank you,' she replied. But they both stood there, gazing at each other, as if they both somehow felt that there was more that needed to be said.

Derkeethus stared into the depths of those beautiful amber eyes, and it was as if something gave way inside him. He felt tears rushing up to his eyes, and he didn't try to stop them.

'Please come back, J'shana,' he blurted out. '_Please _come back.'

She said nothing, but she kept on looking at him, the golden orange gaze locking with the emerald green. And thought she was silent, the look in her eyes told Derkeethus everything that she left unsaid. And it was a thousand times more than all the words in the universe could ever have said.

Afterwards, he was never certain whether he kissed her first, or the other way round. But it didn't really matter.

Just for a few moments, he was able to forget. He was able to forget the fact that within minutes, J'shana would be gone, gone from him, maybe gone forever. He forgot that she was about to face a monster with the power to destroy the world, or that all of Nirn was doomed if she failed.

It was a strange sort of paradise, standing in the ruins of a Draugr-infested temple, with the bodies of two dead dragons and a dragon priest strewn on the ground around them, the gateway to another world glimmering beside them.

But it was paradise, nonetheless.

And Derkeethus knew then, without needed to be told, what would happen if J'shana returned.

If the two of them had a future, then it would be spent together.

* * *

**Anyone who's read my other stories with J'shana already know her past, so I decided to make that bit quick. I hope to be able to write more about some of the details mentioned here later. :)**

**Draconic translations:**

**'_Hi lost meyz, dovahkiin, ol Alduin mindok hi fund.' - _You have come, Dragonborn, as Alduin knew you would.**

**_'Dovah haar, kriist ireid.' - _Dragon priest, stand aside.**

**_'Zu'u Nahkriin. Zu uth nall thurri dein daar miiraak. Zu los gein do Lein Naakin zok mid ahrk. Ov aar nid fent viik zey. Zu los pah suleykaar! Hi fent ni rahn.' - _I am Nahkriin. I was ordered by my overlord to keep this portal. I am one of the World-Eater's most loyal servants. None can defeat me. I am all powerful! You shall not pass. (Like Sha said, arrogant blather...)  
**

**_'__Hi fent neh hiil Sovngarde, joor mey!' - _You will never reach Sovngarde, mortal fool!**

**Thanks for reading! :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm sorry this is so late. For the final 1500 or so words I got the worst case of writer's block I have ever had in my entire life. I'm not overly happy with the ending of this chapter - it just refused to flow. So I'll do what I always do when I don't think a chapter's up to scratch - wait to see what you guys think, and edit it you think it needs work.**

**So here we are, the final chapter of _Three Pieces of Amber. _Please enjoy. :)  
**

* * *

Derkeethus had heard stories of people saying that they had lost the will to live. Before, he had always dismissed it as a foolish thing they said when they were too consumed by grief to think straight. But now he understood exactly what it meant.

Brynjolf had said that J'shana died quickly, too quickly to have felt any pain. Derkeethus hoped that was true. It didn't make the fact that she was dead any easier to bear. But he was glad that she hadn't suffered. He hated the thought of her being in pain. And he also hated the thought of her lying in that tomb, curled up on the cold ground with an arrow in her throat, her silky fur dull and those beautiful amber eyes glazed and still. And he also hated the thought of how casually, how calmly, he had said goodbye to her before she left.

But there was one thought that hurt him more than any other. And that was the thought of what the future held.

Where did he go from here? What was left for him now? It was because of J'shana that he had been living with the Guild. He couldn't stay in Riften, not after this. He knew that the city would always be too full of ghosts. But where else could he go? Could he really return to his old life in Darkwater Crossing? He didn't think he could. He didn't want his days to return to their old, meaningless pattern of mining and fishing and sleeping. He couldn't return to that life now that he had started living one that was so different.

That was what frightened him most. When he looked into his future, he saw nothing. Only emptiness. Without J'shana, his life had quite literally lost all purpose.

A lesser Argonian, a more selfish one, might have wished that he had never met J'shana. But Derkeethus did not wish that and he never would. He had been so happy with J'shana. He was so glad that she had come into his life and taught him what love really meant. She had made him feel so alive, made him see the world in a way that he had never seen it when he had been on his own. He wouldn't have changed that for the world.

He closed his eyes. He didn't want to think about the future. Just for now, he would let the memories live again.

J'shana returned from Sovngarde, of course. She returned with her eyes shining and an incredible story to tell. That night, they sat side by side in the courtyard of High Hrothgar, light flurries of snow swirling around them, as J'shana told him the tale of how she had travelled to the land of the Nord dead, spoken with the ancient heroes of old, and confronted the World Eater. Her Shout had torn him from the sky and her arrows had claimed his life. And so Skyrim had been set free.

Just for a brief time, everything had been perfect.

Their happiness, though, had been short-lived. It had, in fact, lasted two and a half days. On the first day, they travelled to Darkwater Crossing, where Derkeethus reunited briefly with his old friends and poured out the story of his adventures while they listened with wide eyes. On the second, they returned to Sky Haven Temple and, after a heated argument, finally managed to persuade Delphine that Paarthurnax was not a threat. For the morning of the third day, they did nothing very much. Everything seemed different now that they had no mission, no quest. The two of them had left the Temple and wandered aimlessly into the wilderness, discussing where exactly they were going to go and what they were going to do, but not coming up with any ideas. But that was fine; that was _right. _After all those weeks with the weight of their task hanging over them, it was wonderful to finally break free and have no responsibilities, no duties, no nothing. Just the two of them, alone and content. Together.

And then that peace had been shattered at noon on the third day.

They had been walking through the trees, talking. Derkeethus could never remember what exactly they had been talking about, except that he had been enjoying the conversation. And then, without warning, J'shana had let out a sharp exclamation, grabbed his arm and hurled herself onto the ground, pulling Derkeethus down with her.

A moment later, a dozen lightning spells burned into the trees exactly where they had been standing only a heartbeat before.

Breathing in fast, hard gasps, Derkeethus raised his head and saw them explode from the woods. Thalmor. Fifteen of them at least. Even with J'shana's Shouts to aid them, they were very nearly both killed. And they would have been killed, if Derkeethus had been the only living creature on Nirn who had sworn themselves to J'shana. Luckily for them, he was not.

It was Odahviing who saved them. Answering the summons that J'shana had roared to the clouds when she had realised just how much trouble they were in, the crimson-scaled dragon had swooped down like a scarlet thunderbolt and sent the Thalmor flying. Five had already fallen to J'shana and Derkeethus's efforts, but within seconds five more had joined them – three burned to crisps, two with gaping wounds clawed in their stomachs. Before long, the rest had fled, leaving only one remaining, the arrow that J'shana had fired into his gut preventing him from running with the rest of his comrades.

As Derkeethus and Odahviing looked on, J'shana dropped down on her knees beside the gasping, struggling elf, grasped the lapels of his robes, and pulled him up to face her. 'Why did you come for us?' she snarled, her voice trembling with fury. 'Do not dare lie to me. I know this was a planned attack.'

'Elenwen,' the Thalmor agent gasped weakly. 'You are… enemy of the Dominion. Invaded the Thalmor embassy.' He let out a choking cough. 'Thought to be… member of a rebel tribe from Elsweyr.'

Even though he was clearly only seconds from death, he found the strength to sneer. 'You're a dead woman, beast. You have the power to be an enemy –' He broke off, fighting for air, then continued. 'An enemy of the Dominion. The Thalmor will not allow… such a threat to live. They will hunt you down, cat. You and your pet lizard.' A wolflike smile spread across his face. 'Better… start… running…'

His eyes rolled back and his body hung limply in J'shana's grasp.

J'shana let his body fall and took a step backwards, a terrible bleak expression on her face. 'I should have known they'd never leave me be,' she said quietly.

'It'll be all right,' Derkeethus said, hurrying forwards to wrap an arm around her shoulder. 'We won't let them find you.'

_'Joorre _have short memories, Dovahkiin,' Odahviing rumbled from behind them. 'If you hide for a time, then you may be _vodahmin _by these elves.'

Derkeethus could see that J'shana was shaken, but the Khajiit was not one to despair. 'Even the Thalmor won't want to waste time and soldiers hunting me down if I hide for long enough,' she murmured. 'Especially not with the Civil War going the way it is. 'Her face grew thoughtful. 'Maybe it would do me good, to disappear for a while. Now that Alduin is dead, I have no reason to stay in the eye of the citizens of Skyrim. Perhaps if I simply stop being the Dragonborn for a while…'

Odahviing let out a quiet growl. 'You cannot change your _hez_,' he warned.

'I know,' J'shana replied. 'I am not sorry that I am Dragonborn.. But I'm not sure how long I can keep living this life.'

Derkeethus understood what she meant. It sometimes seemed like half of the people of Skyrim treated her as if she were some divine being, while the other half accused her of being a fake. There were plenty of Nords who seemed to think that it would be better to have no hero than one who was a Khajiit. It didn't surprise him that J'shana was considering vanishing - especially now that this had happened. It was dangerous for her to remain in the open. They had survived one Thalmor ambush, but would they be so lucky the next time?

'And now this has happened, I think my path is clear.' There was regret in J'shana's voice, but not a trace of hesitation. 'I will hide for as long as it takes for the Thalmor to… well, I doubt they will forget about me, but maybe I will become less or a priority in time.'

Odahviing dipped his head approvingly, and spread his wings. 'If you have no further need of me, Dovahkiin, then I shall leave. But should you need me again, call to me. _Zu los vahriin wah hi._ Call, and I shall come.'

The vast wings spread and flapped, and the dragon lifted off into the sky, leaving J'shana and Derkeethus looking at each other.

'Where will you go?' Derkeethus asked, his voice suddenly shaking ever so slightly. If J'shana planned on disappearing, did that mean she was leaving completely? Leaving him? 'The Blades could help you.'

'No.,' J'shana replied instantly. 'I will not put the Blades in danger. I may have my disagreements with Delphine, but they are my friends. If I were to lead the Thalmor to them, I would never forgive myself.'

Derkeethus nodded. Though defeating Alduin had been their principal mission over the past few weeks, the two of them had, at Delphine's request, been able to recruit a few people into the order. The first had been a fiery woman named Uthgerd who they had encountered in Whiterun, and the second was a naïve but brave-hearted young Nord named Erik. Delphine seemed pleased with their progress, and she had asked J'shana and Derkeethus to keep their eyes out for any possible third recruits. To put the Blades in danger was the last thing either of them wanted – and if J'shana, the Dragonborn, was planning to go into hiding, Skyrim would be needing some professional dragonslayers.

'But where, then?'

J'shana twined her tail around her legs, frowning. 'Do you remember the offer Brynjolf made to me, when we went to Riften to find Esbern?'

Derkeethus hesitantly inclined his head. 'He asked if you wanted to join the Thieves Guild.'

The Khajiit shrugged slowly. 'When I lived in Cyrodiil for a time, I picked up… certain skills. There was no other way for me to survive.' She sighed. 'If I joined the Guild, I would be hidden. I would live outside the rest of society. And they seem more honourable than most bands who live at odds with the law – they have a code, at least, and a sense of family. I might well grow to like such a life, and I know that I have the skills I need.'

Derkeethus felt pure hatred for the Dominion surge through him. How dare they do this to J'shana? She was the hero of Skyrim, and they were driving her into the sewers as if she were a rat.

'I'm going with you,' he announced.

Her eyes widened. 'Keeth, no. I can't ask you to give up your life for me. It's me they're after. You have a home, friends- '

'But they already know about me. They can find out who I am easily. I'll be no safer if I return to Darkwater Crossing.' Derkeethus took a step towards her. 'And I am not leaving you. Whatever we choose to do now, we do it together.'

There was no more discussion. Nothing more needed to be discussed. They stood there in each other's arms for a long while, and Derkeethus thought how strange it was that this was the second time a battle with the Thalmor had ended up with them holding each other.

What felt like a minute passed. Then J'shana let out a soft purr. 'I love you,' she murmured.

Those three words were the most beautiful sounds that Derkeethus had ever heard in his entire life. 'I love you too, Sha,' he breathed, holding her a little closer. 'And we will come through this. Together.'

And so they did.

They made a hurried journey to Riften, staying alert every step of the way. Even the sound of a snapping twig was enough to make them glance uneasily over their shoulders, gazing into the trees that surrounded the road with apprehension, but it was always just a deer or a fox. They reached the City of Thieves without incident, ventured into the ratway, and found the Ragged Flagon once again.

Brynjolf had been surprised but pleased to see them, and he'd been even more pleased when J'shana accepted his offer. Derkeethus knew that though he had to hide just as much as J'shana did, he wasn't quite comfortable yet with stealing from anyone – and anyway, he didn't have the skills for it. The Guild's deputy had decided that Derkeethus could play a different role – helping Tonilia make the armour, perhaps, or assisting with allocating the missions to the different members.

Mercer Frey, the Guildmaster, had met them, spoken to them, and approved of them joining. Derkeethus wasn't sure what to think of the harsh-voiced, cold-eyed Breton. To be sure, he kept the Guild in order, and the other thieves had an enormous amount of respect for him. But the Argonian always felt slightly wary around him. Perhaps it was because he had never heard Mercer say anything kind to anyone, or perhaps it was simply because he never smiled.

And so, as time passed, the two of them became part of the strange family that was the Thieves Guild. Under Brynjolf's teaching, J'shana became a talented thief, able to pick locks, break into houses and walk silently as a breath of wind. Derkeethus never accomplished any proper missions himself, but he performed practically every other job that the Guild needed him to do. And they were happy. They were together, and it seemed that the Thalmor didn't know where they were. Nobody in the Guild knew that J'shana was the Dragonborn, with the sole exception of Etienne Rarnis, who had witnessed J'shana's power over the Voice when she had set him free from the Thalmor embassy. But having been a prisoner of the Dominion, the young Breton was not at all keen to set eyes on a single Thalmor agent again, and once the situation had been explained to him, Etienne had promised not to say a word.

Months went by and turned into years. J'shana became a better and better thief, and she and Derkeethus grew still closer. One day, she returned from a job she had been assigned in Solitude with a war-dog in tow; a vast, shaggy beast with fur the colour of iron and very round brown eyes. His name was Meeko, and J'shana had taken him under her wing after finding him sitting beside the body of his previous owner. Some of the Guild had been hesitant at first about keeping a dog in the Flagon, but Meeko was impossible not to love. Within days, he too was part of the family. And soon J'shana had her own horse, too, a beautiful palomino stallion named Frost. Not long after, she had uncovered and dealt with a Skooma dealer in Riften, and the following chain of events had led to her owning a small house in the city, named Honeyside. Most nights, the Khajiit and the Argonian would sleep with their friends in the Cistern, but occasionally, when they wanted to be alone, they would return there together. Those were wonderful nights, carefree nights when they would sit together by the fire with Meeko resting at their feet, watching the flames dance as they talked and laughed together. And Derkeethus would fall asleep listening to the sound of J'shana's breathing, letting the soft purring sound lull him into sleep.

He found it hard to think about how easy everything had been back then. The threat of the Thalmor still hung over them, but every so often he and J'shana would venture out and visit the Blades in Sky Haven Temple, or the Greybeards in High Hrothgar. The news from Delphine was always the same; the Dominion was hunting them still, but they had no idea where to look, and with tension mounting every day that the Civil War continued, it looked like the accursed elves would eventually give up searching for them.

They never discussed what they would do if it ever became safe for them to return to the outside world, but they knew, through some unspoken agreement, that they would cross that bridge when they came to it - and that they would stay together. But it never actually came to that, because it was after they had been with the Guild for a few years that J'shana was sent to Goldenglow.

Just another routine mission, they'd been told. Yes, Vex had been hurt when she'd tried it, but J'shana shouldn't have any problems, as long as she was careful. Break into the estate. Clear out the safe. That would be the end of it.

But it hadn't been the end. It had been the beginning.

The Honningbrew mission had seemed unrelated at first. And then it was revealed that somehow, for some reason, the same person had both bought Goldenglow and funded Honningbrew. Derkeethus had wanted J'shana to stay out of it, after that. He'd known that there was danger involved in the whole business, and she was in it too deep for his liking already. He'd asked Brynjolf to keep the Khajiit out of the affair, and when the Nord had replied that there wasn't really anything he could do, he'd even summoned up the courage to appeal to Mercer. But the Guildmaster had ignored him, and J'shana had been sent to take care of Gulum-Ei. She had returned bearing news, and with it a name: Karliah.

Derkeethus ground his teeth together. He wished he'd never heard that name. The name of the traitor, the name of the murderer. The name of the monster who had taken J'shana away from him.

The Dunmer was a killer, they were told. It was thanks to her that the Guild was in the miserable state it had been when they arrived. The Guildmaster before Mercer had been an Imperial man, Gallus Desidenius. It was a name they had heard whispered by some of the other members, but whenever they had asked about its owner, they had always received the same answer: 'Mercer's predecessor. Don't talk about him in front of any of the senior members. Especially not Mercer.'

Now, with J'shana so deeply involved in this whole affair, the truth came out. Gallus had been murdered – murdered in cold blood by one of his most trusted fellow thieves, a Dunmer woman named Karliah. If it hadn't been for Mercer, who had witnessed the crime, no one would ever have known. But the Breton had made it back to the Guild in time to tell them what had happened, and Karliah had vanished. The Guild had hunted her down, using every source and contact they had, but she had never been found. That had been twenty five years ago.

But now, it seemed, she was back. And it looked like she wanted to finish what she had started a quarter century ago, by killing Mercer just as she had killed Gallus. The happenings at Goldenglow and Honningbrew had been attempts to weaken the Guild. And now she was hiding in a place called Snow Veil Sanctum, the place 'where the end began.' The place where Gallus had died.

On the morning of the previous day, Derkeethus had been sitting at the rim of the Cistern pool, browsing a book entitled _Racial Phylogeny. _It had been lying around the Cistern, and he had, in a moment of boredom, picked it up and started to read. It was interesting, if a little confusing – although there was something about the Khajiit subspecies that definitely went against what J'shana had told him. He had just made a mental note to ask her about it when he saw her approaching, but her tense and worried expression made him realise quickly that now was not the time.

'I need to talk to you,' J'shana said, sitting down beside him. 'Mercer has just spoken to me.'

Derkeethus set the book aside and nodded for her to continue. 'What did he say?'

'He's going to Snow Veil Sanctum.' The tip of J'shana's tail twitched, the way it always did when she was agitated. 'He wants to find Karliah . He says he's going to avenge Gallus's death and put an end to this whole business.' She swallowed nervously. 'And he wants me to go with him.'

It took a moment for the meaning of her words to sink in. When they did, Derkeethus sat bolt upright, his eyes wide. 'Why you? ' he burst out. 'It's far too dangerous. She's a murderer. Why not one of the others – Brynjolf, or Vex?'

'Mercer says it has to be me. He was insistent.' J'shana pressed her hands together, shaking her head slightly. 'I think he wants a skilled fighter to go with him, who knows about what's going on but who is not too valuable to the Guild. '

'So that it doesn't matter if you get killed?' Derkeethus leapt to his feet. 'No. He can't do that. And if he doesn't' see that, I'll make him.'

'Keeth!' J'shana jumped up too, grasping his arm. 'There's no arguing with Mercer, especially not when he's in this mood. And I understand why he wants it to be me, rather than one of the seniors. The Guild can manage if I die.'

'But I can't.' The words slipped out before Derkeethus could stop them – before he'd even realised that he was saying them.

J'shana smiled at him, letting out a low purr. 'There's no need to be worried. We'll be back soon. I promise.'

And Derkeethus had believed her. She was Dragonborn; she could deal with a single Dark Elf, especially if Mercer was with her. Derkeethus had never seen the Guildmaster in action, but all those who had agreed that he was an expert swordsman. 'Karliah doesn't stand a chance against the three of them,' Brynjolf assured Derkeethus later that day, after J'shana had left along with Mercer and Meeko. 'She's not going to know what hit her.'

If he had known, as he said goodbye to her at the door of the Cistern, that if she left she would never return, he would have run over to her and held on to her tightly, forcing her to stay behind no matter what Mercer said. But he had not known, and she had gone. And she had not come back.

He would never again feel the smoothness of that silky ash-grey fur, or hear her laugher or her rumbling purrs, or see her smile or her wonderful flame-coloured eyes. She was gone, gone forever.

One arrow. How could one arrow have killed his Sha? She was so strong, so fast, so alert. Why hadn't she seen it coming in time to dodge? Why had she been leading the way, anyway? Wasn't Mercer the Guildmaster? He should have gone first! He should protected J'shana – he should have saved her!

Derkeethus closed his eyes. If only he had been there. Maybe he would have been able to stop it from happening. Then J'shana would still be with him.

He unfurled his fingers, staring at the ring that still rested in his palm. As he watched J'shana leave, he had made the decision to give it to her. He had been making it for months, but even though it had been completed some time ago, he hadn't yet found the courage to ask her that question, the question he had longed to ask for so, so long. He had been going to ask her when she returned. He had been so certain that he would ask…

But now he never would.

He had never thought that the Divines were so heartless. He had heard so much about Mara's benevolence, Her grace and kindness.

If She was so kind, why had she let J'shana be taken away from him?

Derkeethus drew in a long, slow breath. With a trembling hand, he slipped the ring into his pocket, out of sight.

He didn't know what he was going to do with his life now that J'shana had been torn out of it. But he did know what he was going to do right now, right away. He had no plans beyond that, but for now, his path was clear.

He was going to Snow Veil Sanctum. He didn't care how many Draugr he had to fight or how many traps he had to avoid to get through. He was going to find J'shana's body. He was going to get her out of there and give her a proper funeral. And if Karliah was still there, then she would pay for what she'd done.

And if Derkeethus couldn't best her, then maybe, just maybe, he would be united with J'shana in death. That would be better than a life without her.

He lifted his gaze to the sky, smiling as he remembered something. Some nights, when they were sitting beside the fire together, J'shana used to sing. Often it was in Ta'agra, but sometimes it would be in the common tongue, so that he could understand it. There was one song that she only ever sung when she was feeling sad, or at least thoughtful. It was one, she said, that she had made up in honour of her fallen tribe. Derkeethus had only ever heard it a few times, but the words had stuck in his mind.

Now, as he stood alone on the shore, it felt right to sing it himself. For J'shana.

He breathed in deeply, and began.

'_Your spirit is gone from Nirn_

_Your memory stays behind_

_Though dead you lie, I close my eyes_

_And see you in my mind_

_No suffering can pain you now_

_Your soul is born anew_

_I won't forget the times we shared_

_Those joyful days with you.'_

He paused, listening to the sound of the words fading away, leaving only the sounds of the waves lapping at the shore and the leaves rustling. He struggled to remember the second verse, but after a few moments it came to him, and he went on in a voice that trembled slightly.

'_For death is just for now_

_Some day I too shall die_

_The Gods shall bear my soul up there_

_To join you in the sky_

_We'll meet again when that day comes_

_When death sets my soul free …'_

His voice trailed off. The last lines – what were the last lines? He couldn't have forgotten them. He knew them; he was sure of it.

And then, out of nowhere, he heard a soft voice finish the song.

'_We'll never be apart again_

_For all eternity.'_

Derkeethus froze.

Those were the last two lines. But only he and one other person knew that song.

And he knew that voice.

No. No, it couldn't be. He was only hearing her because he wanted to so badly.

And then something large, grey and furry cannoned into him from behind, making him stagger backwards with a gasp. He glanced down and let out a surprised yelp of mingled surprise and delight. 'Meeko?'

The dog bounded around his feet, tail wagging wildly, and that was when Derkeethus knew. Meeko went nowhere without J'shana. If he was here –

He spun around. 'Sha?' he heard himself cry.

'Keeth.'

Words had power; Derkeethus had always known that. He had, after all, been living with the Dragonborn for some years, and he had witnessed first-hand the damage that some words could do, when they were carefully selected words in the Dragon Tongue. But ordinary words had power too – the power to make you laugh or cry or smile. The power to change lives.

That one word – J'shana's nickname for him – was enough to change his life. To turn grief into elation within a single second. To bring back a million hopes and dreams that he had given up.

There she stood, the wind stirring her ash-grey fur, that familiar small, shy smile on her face. Her brown leathers were, in places, stained with specks of what like blood, and the look in her eyes was one of complete exhaustion. But it was her. It was J'shana. His J'shana. Alive.

He stared at her for a second, unable to believe what his eyes were telling him.

Then he realised that he didn't care if this was impossible, because there she was. Somehow, Brynjolf and Mercer had been mistaken, or lying. It didn't matter which. All that mattered was that they'd been wrong, and J'shana was alive.

He ran to her without another moment's thought. And when he swept her up in his arms and heard her delighted burst of laughter, he knew that this was real.

'You're alive,' he gasped, not really caring how completely unnecessary the statement was.

She chuckled, pulling him in a little closer. 'Just about.'

Derkeethus felt a wave of questions build up inside him. 'What happened to you?' he blurted out, pulling back a little way so that he could see her face. 'Brynjolf told me… I thought you were…'

'Well, that news was slightly premature, but he was almost right.' There was happiness in J'shana's voice, but also a deep weariness.

'I thought I'd lost you.' Derkeethus could barely hear his own voice, it was so thick with tears – but this time the tears were caused by happiness.

'I'm sorry, Derkeethus. I really am.' J'shana suddenly sounded distressed, and as she sometimes did when worried, she began babbling at lightning-fast speed. 'I would have come back before, but we had to translate Gallus's journal, and so I had to go to Winterhold and then all the way to Markarth, and even on Odahviing it took a long time, because I had to trawl through this Gods-damned Dwemer museum and then I almost got caught by the guards, and then I had to go back to the Frozen Hearth to show the rubbing to Enthir and then we came back to Riften –' She broke off, breathed in deeply, and continued. '-But I couldn't come and find you because we had to make Brynjolf look at the journal and then we had to persuade him to open the vault and then we had to tell him about Mercer and Gallus and the Nightingales, and after that Bryn said that he needed me to break into Mercer's house and I asked Rune where you'd gone and he said he didn't know, so I asked Etienne and he said you'd gone home, so I went into Honeyside and you weren't there and then I came out here and –'

'Sha!' Derkeethus shook his head desperately as he tried and failed to keep up. 'I… I didn't catch a word of that.'

J'shana let out that small gasp of air that always came from her when she was laughing and crying at the same time. 'It's… a very long story.' She swallowed hard, and Derkeethus saw that her eyes were wet. Gently, he reached down and wiped away the tear that was beginning to form, leaving a small damp streak on the silver fur. The Khajiit lifted her hand and placed it on top of his, holding it against her cheek, and they stayed like that for a long moment.

'Everything Mercer said was untrue,' she said finally, in a slightly steadier voice.

'I can see that,' Derkeethus said, feeling slightly uncertain. 'I… I suppose he thought you were dead, but-'

'No. I meant _everything.' _J'shana shook her head. 'Everything he told us.'

Derkeethus frowned, trying to work out what she meant. 'He told me – well, he told Brynjolf and Bryn told me – that you took the lead, and Karliah shot you.'

'Actually, I suppose that was the truth.' J'shana sounded vaguely amused by that.

It didn't amuse Derkeethus. He felt his hands clench into fists. 'She will pay,' he snarled. 'I will make her regret what she did to you.'

'No!' J'shana's eyes widened. 'No, you don't understand. You mustn't hurt her- if anything, you need to thank her. She never tried to kill me. She saved my life.' Seeing his face, she sighed. 'Karliah was never the traitor, Keeth. The traitor, the murderer… it was Mercer. It was him all along.'

The Khajiit had always been a good storyteller. On the occasions when she told Derkeethus a tale, she would tell it in the way he might have read it in a book, building up suspense and making him laugh and smile at all the right moments. But this time, she told the story in the same way that she had told the tale of her tribe's death – in a grim voice, telling him nothing but the facts.

And the facts were not what Derkeethus had been expecting to hear.

Karliah had not killed Gallus.

Mercer was the one responsible for the former Guildmaster's death, and all the pain and misery and ill fortune that had followed.

He had been stealing from the Guild, for an entire quarter century, even before he murdered Gallus.

The Breton had framed Karliah for Gallus's murder, and ever since then, the Dunmer had been on the run – innocent, but helpless, and completely alone.

She had indeed shot J'shana in Snow Veil Sanctum, but with an arrow coated in a special poison which had paralysed the Khajiit rather than killing her.

Mercer – and Derkeethus had cried out in horror upon hearing this - had then stabbed J'shana in the chest and left her to bleed to death.

Karliah had carried J'shana out of the ruins, healed her, and told her all the truths that J'shana was telling Derkeethus now.

'I wanted to come back right away,' J'shana said quietly. 'I knew that Mercer would have told the Guild that I was dead – either that, or that I was a traitor too. And I didn't care all that much what everyone else thought, but I didn't want you to think…'

'I wouldn't have believed Mercer if he'd said that you'd betrayed us,' Derkeethus promised. 'I expect that was why he decided to tell us you'd been killed.'

'I would have come back the moment I woke up if I could.' J'shana seemed to be pleading slightly, as if she was worried he didn't believe her. 'But Karliah and I couldn't have faced the Guild without proof. They'd have killed her straight away, and there's already been enough death.'

Derkeethus smiled. 'It's all right. I'm not angry with you.'

'Well, you should be.' J'shana suddenly turned away from him. 'I promised you I'd come back and I almost broke that promise. I should have seen this coming. If I hadn't been so worried about the Thalmor all the time, perhaps I would have seen Mercer for what he is-'

'Sha, stop it.' Derkeethus placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her back to face him. 'If the whole Guild never noticed for twenty five years, why should you have worked it out in two?' Seeing the devastation on her face, he added, 'It's all right now. You're safe. We'll find Mercer and I won't let him hurt you again. Everything's all right.'

She dropped her gaze. 'Maybe.'

'Shana.' Derkeethus very rarely called her that, and as far as he knew, he was the only person who ever actually addressed her that way. 'Tell me what's wrong.'

The Khajiit continued staring at the ground for a few seconds, then let out a long sigh. 'Karliah told me… she and Gallus were together, before he died. When he left for Snow Veil Sanctum, I'm sure he promised her that he'd come back, just as I did. But he never did. And I almost didn't.' She was beginning to sound almost frantic. 'I don't ever want to lose you that way, Keeth. I don't want to lose you at all. I don't know how I would stand it. I don't know how Karliah has. I… I don't know how you did.'

'But I didn't have to.' Derkeethus cupped his hand under her chin and lifted her head, making certain that she was looking at him. 'I thought you were dead and… yes, I felt lost. I didn't know what to do. But I'm not going to let that happen again, I promise.'

Some of the fear left J'shana's eyes, but she still seemed anguished. 'We still have to go after Mercer. He's powerful, Keeth. He could kill me. I can't promise that I'll come back.'

Derkeethus looked at her, and realised suddenly that despite all her skill with a bow, despite her fierce fighting spirit, and despite the fact that she had the blood and soul of a dragon, she was far more vulnerable than she seemed. She had lost so much. She had so little to hold onto, so little that she could put her faith in.

And there and then he made the decision. He was going to change that. And he was going to start right now.

'Sha, can I ask you something?'

Her brow creased, but she nodded.

Derkeethus slipped a hand into his pocket. It was funny; he'd always thought that he would be terrified when he came to this moment, but strangely, he was not.

'I've been meaning to ask you this for quite some time,' he admitted, closing his hand around the ring. 'And I… well, I was planning to ask you after you returned from Snow Veil. For a time I thought I would never be able to. So I'm going to do it now, before you go after Mercer.'

He hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to go on. Then he decided that the best and only thing to do was to say nothing, and give it to her.

With a swift tug, he pulled the ring from his pocket and held it out. The sunlight winked on those three pieces of amber, but for the first time since the previous evening it didn't pain Derkeethus to look at them.

J'shana stared at the ring for a moment without speaking. Then, moving slowly, she picked it up and turned it over in her palm, gazing at it as if transfixed by the way the silver caught the light. Derkeethus waited for her to speak, but still she said nothing, and finally he decided to break the silence.

'Do you know the Argonian tradition?' he asked.

The Khajiit nodded, still not tearing her gaze away from the ring. 'I know it.'

Derkeethus hesitated, realised she wasn't going to say anything else, and scratched the base of his horns, suddenly feeling self-conscious. 'So you, um, know what I'm asking?'

She nodded again, but this time she didn't speak.

There was a lengthy pause, and Derkeethus thought it would be best for him not to say anything. When J'shana remained silent, it was usually because she was thinking, and thinking hard.

He had a feeling that she was thinking hard now. The truth was, he didn't know what she was going to say. He knew what he _wanted _her to say, and he suspected that she wanted to say it too. But what if she felt that she couldn't say yes? They were still in danger, after all – what if she thought she shouldn't make another promise that she might not be able to keep?

'I know that this might not be the time,' he burst out. 'With Mercer still threatening us. But I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. And if you're going to go hunting Mercer, then I want you to have something to live for – '

He never got any further, because J'shana suddenly kissed him.

For a moment, he froze in surprise; then he relaxed and kissed back, slipping his hands around her neck and savouring the moment. And just as he had somehow been able to forget about Alduin and the dragons and Sovngarde and everything that put them in danger when they kissed for the first time in Skuldafn, so he was able to forget again now. He was able to forget Mercer, and the Guild, and everything that threatened them. He was even able to forget that still-lingering pain that Brynjolf's announcement of J'shana's death had caused. Just for a few seconds, he let it all go.

'Something to live for?' J'shana murmured, as they finally broke apart. 'Keeth, do you think I don't already have something to live for? I have you. I could lose everything else that I've come to care about – the Guild, Meeko, everything – but as long as I still had you, I would have something to live for. You've been what I have to live for for a long time. If it weren't for you, I would never have survived to defeat Alduin. I'm not sure I would even have wanted to survive to defeat Alduin. You make everything worthwhile, Derkeethus.'

Derkeethus blinked, staring at her, too overwhelmed to speak.

'If you think that I need to make any sort of promise to you to give me a reason to return, then you're wrong. I already made them a long time ago.' She smiled. 'I just didn't say them out loud.'

Frowning, Derkeethus tipped his head on one side. 'Is that a very roundabout way of saying yes?'

J'shana's laughter rang out through the air. 'Yes!'

Derkeethus let out a shout of mingled delight and triumph, swept her up in his arms and spun her around. He could hear her laughing, and Meeko barking – he sincerely doubted the dog understood what was going on, but Meeko always seemed able to pick up when J'shana was happy.

'I'll have to send word to everyone in Darkwater Crossing,' he blurted out, as he set J'shana down. 'They'll want to come. And maybe the Blades, too, and your friends from Riverwood, Faendal and Ralof. I guess it'll have to be quiet, though… will the Guild want to come? Some of them will, I'm sure, Rune and Etienne for certain, and we can ask Erandur to come down from Dawnstar - ' He stopped mid-sentence. _I'm rambling, _he thought in surprise. _That's new._

He heard a soft purr echo through the air. 'We'll have plenty of time to work out the details once I'm back.'

'Do you want me to go with you?' Derkeethus asked. 'To find Mercer?'

He cursed himself for changing the subject. But he was suddenly worried. He wasn't going to let Mercer split them up again.

'I need to find out where he's gone, first,' J'shana said. 'Bryn wants me to break into his house.'

Derkeethus felt a claw of anguish grip him. He knew he wouldn't be able to accompany her if she was on a break-in mission. Over the time he'd spent with the Guild, he had slowly become better at stealth, but J'shana's training, combined with her natural Khajiit agility, made her a far better thief than he was. He would only slow her down.

'The others will probably want to leave straight away, but I'll try to come back here before we go after Mercer.' J'shana twined her tail around his. 'I don't know how long we'll be, but I'll try my best not to keep you waiting. '

A grin spread across Derkeethus's face. J'shana would be all right. He knew she would be all right. 'And this time, if someone comes back and tells me you're dead, I'll make sure I don't believe them until I've got proof.'

'And I'll make sure you don't have to,' J'shana promised.

She stood gazing at him for a moment, then suddenly she lifted her hands to her neck and pulled something free from beneath her tunic. Derkeethus' eyes widened as he recognized it. It was a piece of amber, very similar to the ones he had placed in the ring he had made, almost perfectly spherical and strung onto a piece of thin twine. It was J'shana's naming amulet, given to her along with her name soon after he had been born. Every member of her tribe had one, even the tiny Alfiq and the vast Senche-Raht. They were said to protect them from harm, warding off dark spirits and encouraging fair fortune. J'shana had always maintained that he didn't know whether they actually had any magical power, but that wearing it was important to her. In all her life she had only ever been without it once, and that was when the Imperials had taken it from her at Helgen. But to her surprise, as she made her escape alongside a Stormcloak warrior, a Nord serving the Imperials had thrown it to her. 'I put up quite a fight when they tried to take it from me,' J'shana had explained. 'I didn't care about them dividing up my possessions among themselves after they captured me, but when they took my naming attitude, I lost control. I told them what it meant to me, that I'd worn it all my life... I fought them until they knocked me out. I don't know why the Nord – I think his name was Hadvar – decided to give it back to me, especially after I followed Ralof. I'm just glad he did.'

Derkeethus watched in amazement as she pulled it over her head. He had never seen her take it off before. Why was she removing it now, when it was practically a part of her?

Before he could react, she leaned forwards and slipped it over his head. It fell down around his neck, and the warm amber sphere clinked slightly against his scales.

'I want you to take this,' J'shana announced.

'Sha, no.' Derkeethus felt it would be rude to pull it off, but he didn't understand why she was giving it to him. 'I can't-'

'Yes, you can, and you will.' The Khajiit smiled and held up her right hand, stroking the ring with her fingertips. 'I have this to protect me now. I don't know if my naming amulet has any real power. My tribe had them, and it didn't prevent their deaths. But if I am leaving you for now, I want you to be safe. And if this can keep you safe, then…' She shrugged slightly.

The Argonian closed his hand around the amulet. 'I know what this means to you, Sha,' he told her. 'I will treasure it. I promise.'

They stood there for a moment; then an urgent-sounding bark made them both turn their heads. Meeko had risen to his paws and was wagging his tail meaningfully.

'I think he knows I've got a job to do,' J'shana chuckled.

'He's no fool.' Derkeethus crouched down and ruffled the thick fur on the war-dog's head. 'You look after her, Meeko.'

Meeko barked again, and nuzzled J'shana's leg. She rolled her eyes. 'All right, boy. I'm coming.'

She looked back at Derkeethus. 'I have to go. But I will be back.'

'I know.' She would be; he had to believe that. 'And in the meantime, I might as well send a courier to Erandur.'

She grinned. 'I think that would be a wonderful idea.'

Derkeethus pulled her to him and held her close, shutting his eyes and savouring the moment, just in case it was the last one they would spend together. But it wouldn't be. They had a future; he was certain of it. A future together.

J'shana finally stepped away, glancing over her shoulder at the shape of the city. 'Goodbye, Keeth.'

He shook his head. 'See you soon,' he corrected her.

He watched her go, moving at a calm but brisk walk, her head and tail held high, Meeko bounding alongside her. It pained him to see her leave, but at least this time she would not be gone forever.

Derkeethus saw her stop suddenly, turn, and look back at him. She raised her hand, and in the simple gesture Derkeethus saw the promise she hadn't spoken aloud, the promise to return.

He kept gazing after her long after she had disappeared.

He was worried for her. He would not deny that. But he was not afraid. He knew, somehow, that she would be back. It might be hours, it might be days, weeks even, but soon she would return.

Closing his eyes, he found that he could see it. It was a picture made by his imagination, but it felt as real as a vision from the future. He could see her returning, Meeko padding at her side, her eyes gleaming, her fur shimmering silver, and her face brightened by her dazzling smile.

And that silver band with its three pieces of amber shining in the sun.


End file.
